It was a repeat performance, little pricks of pain, then the sharpness as if made by a knife, then hotter streaks that jolted her system and finally the passage across the threshold to pleasure.
“Very good.” His lips, the texture of rough satin, brushed over hers. “Tell me what the pain feels like?”
Bree let out a breath. “Like sharp, warm knives piercing my breasts but in a very good way. Not fearful.” She said the last almost in wonderment. “It’s almost as if I feel the pain embracing me. Is that too weird?”
“No.” There was a smile in his voice. “Not at all. What else?”
“May I touch them?”
Now, he chuckled. “Of course. I want to know what they feel like to you.”
She rubbed her fingertips over the nipples and clamps, then down the slope of her breasts. Again the metal felt like the soft gold of her bracelet. Her nipples, compressed at their root, poked through like the raspberries she used to pick at her uncle’s farm—dimpled and turgid and at the point of bursting. Tentatively she squeezed them, gasping at the streak of pain that shot straight to her cunt.
“Oh!” she said, pinching herself again, amazed at the texture of the nipples that was different from normal.
A long finger with slightly rough skin slid through her slit. “You’re very wet. The pain makes you wetter. Doesn’t it.”
She was so lost in testing the surfaces of her breasts and the clamps, she didn’t realise he’d asked her a question. “W-what?”
Spreading the lips on either side of her clit, he pinched it and twisted it slightly. “I said, the pain makes you wetter, doesn’t it?”
He pinched harder, she jumped, and a jagged bolt shot through her cunt into her womb. A fresh spate of her cream dripped out onto her inner thighs.
“Yes.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Yes, it does.”
“Tell me,” he commanded.
“I like the feeling of the pain lancing into me. It m-makes my pussy quiver and get wetter.”
“Let’s see just how much wetter it makes you. Bend your knees and put your feet apart.”
When she’d done as he asked, he placed his fingers on both sides of her labia and opened her like a present, blowing a stream of air onto the soaked flesh. She clenched her inner muscles, the tiny nerves in the tissues firing like miniature rockets.
“Touch yourself,” he told her, still holding her open.
Bree moved one hand down between her legs, over the soft curls that she knew would soon be gone, to the flesh slick with her juices. When she touched her clitoris, still tender from his treatment of it, it felt like a tiny swollen penis, poking out through its protective hood. She could hardly bear to touch it, yet she couldn’t not. With two fingers she circled it over and over again, relishing the sensation radiating from it into her vagina. Her hips began to thrust in little hitches.
“Not yet,” the Dragon said. “Just tell me what you feel.”
“Wet silk, wet with a thick fluid.” She rubbed herself, then moved back to her clit. “A tiny protrusion of skin like a miniature cock. ‘ She smiled and rubbed herself again. “And I love the feel of my fingers arousing me.”
He moved her hand away. “What about mine? Do they arouse you? Tell me what they feel like?”
Without warning he plunged two fingers into her waiting cunt, all the way to the last knuckle and pressed his thumb over her clit.
“Oooh,” she moaned. “I like that.”
“Description, Bree,” he prompted. “Tonight is all about touch. Every kind of touch. So give me the words.”
“Like two small but thick cocks, but different. The skin of your fingers is not as soft, but I like the roughness of them.”
“And would you like me to fuck you with them?”
“Oh, yes. Please.”
He withdrew his fingers lightly scraping the walls of her pussy as he did. “But not yet. Not until others can see your enjoyment.”
The audience. She’d almost forgotten about that.
“Come now.” He took her hand and helped her to slide off the table. “We must dress you for your presentation.”
As if a hidden signal had been given, the door opened and footsteps whispered over the plush carpet. The Dragon took her hand and draped fabric over it, letting it drift across her fingers.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Linen,” she answered at once. “Nubby linen, with tiny knots in it. I don’t think I’d like it against my skin. Too scratchy.”
That husky male chuckle pierced to the core of her, stirring feelings far beyond the physical. Oh, no. Not good. And she hadn’t even seen his face, yet. Or the famous dragon’s tail.
“Good,” he agreed, whisking the fabric away and repeating the process with another one.
“Lace,” she told him, feeling the design in the material, the spaces in the cutwork, and rubbed it between her fingers. “Maybe. I don’t…Maybe.”
Fingers snapped and yet another drape slid over her waiting hand. This one was so soft and diaphanous she had to scrunch it in her hand to make sure fabric was actually there. She rubbed it against her cheek, loving the sensuous feel of it.
“This one. Definitely.”
The chuckle again. “Are you sure? This is so sheer it’s like wearing a window. People will see you.”
“They will see me anyway, right?” Her heart pounded but she wasn’t about to back out now.
“Then you’ve made a good selection. Lift your arms, please.”
When she did so, the whisper of material slid over her head and down her body, barely reaching past the tops of her thighs. Again, the touch of it was so vague she had to touch it to make sure it was there.
“Come.”
A warm male hand enfolded hers, the softness of the palm a sharp contrast to the callused fingers. When his hand enfolded hers, a jolt of energy spiked straight through her and her knees were suddenly weak. He linked his fingers through hers, a tender gesture she hadn’t expected.
“Trust me,” he told her. “I will guide you.” Rough satin lips brushed her forehead. “The audience will love you.”
Chapter Three
Bree heard the low murmur of voices all around her as the dragon led her across more plush carpet and into another area. This must be one of the glass rooms, she thought.
“Members and honoured guests,” the Dragon’s voice suddenly boomed.
He must be using a microphone. I wonder how big the area is, and how many people are watching.
Bree stood next to him, trying not to tremble.
“I am darkening the other rooms,” he continued, “so you can focus completely on tonight’s special treat. Having bid successfully for a Night of Touch at the House of Five Senses, we want to share the rest of this beautiful woman’s experiences with all of you. Behold her lush body.”
Guiding her with his hands, he turned Bree slowly in place so that she could be seen from every angle. Although the dress she wore was very thin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination, still there was a collective gasp when the dress was whisked over her head and she stood completely naked before them.
The Dragon lifted her in his arms and placed her gently on another table holding a soft collection of pillows and material, this one much wider.
“If at any time you change your mind,” he murmured in her ear, “remember the choice is yours.”
“I don’t know what…”
But when he lifted her arms over her head and fastened handcuffs lines with a material that felt like cotton balls, she knew what he meant. If any of this was too extreme, she had the option to stop. But she hadn’t outbid all those other women for the erotic experience of a lifetime, just to turn and run home.
Besides, just the idea of being restrained and helpless, at the mercy of this man, increased the anticipation of her pleasure. He could do whatever he wanted to and with her, and she was powerless unless she told him she’d had enough. Tonight, she would push herself sexua
lly further than she’d ever allowed herself to go.
The amplification of his voice let her know he was back at the microphone again.
“This is her first visit to the House of Five Senses,” he informed the audience, “so let us make it a memorable one for her. She has chosen the sense of touch, which encompasses not only the things she will touch with her own hands, but the things and people who will touch her. She is already adorned with her gift of nipple clamps, which we will bring into play later in the evening.”
The applause was loud and the heat rising up in her cheeks told Bree she was blushing. All these people looking at her. But she couldn’t see them, so it was almost like being alone. She forced herself to let her mind drift, putting herself in a place removed from where she was as she did when she masturbated at home.
The Dragon bent her knees and separated them. “As you can see,” he went on, “our guest has a neatly trimmed bush on her cunt. Our policy is a completely nude sexual area, and we waited until you could watch the process before barbering her.”
Bree hitched her body slightly in surprise when a warm cloth was draped over her cunt, but the bigger surprise was the bands of thin steel suddenly locked in place around her knees. When she tried to close them she discovered they were attached to something solid between them that kept her legs stretched wide apart.
“To give us the best possible access,” the Dragon told her in his deep, gravelly voice, “and prevent you from closing them and injuring yourself as we shave your pubic area.”
So there she was, splayed open for the world to see, at the mercy of this man and other members of the club. A flutter set up in her pussy, like the soft beating of butterfly wings. She hoped she didn’t embarrass herself and come before it was time, but she was already so aroused she didn’t think it would take much.
The fabric on her mound had the nubby feel of terry cloth, but the very soft kind that shorts and T-shirts were made of. It made her think of warm mornings in bed and hands stroking her beneath her sleep shirt. When a warm liquid trickled onto the cloth—heated water, she thought, wetting her sufficiently—she let its heat expand throughout her body, cradling her in a cloud of invisible vapour. Then the cloth was whisked away and lean fingers, not as work-roughened as the Dragon’s, stroked and petted her outer lips. One finger flicked at her clit.
“A nice plump clitoris,” a different male voice commented, this one softer with a slight drawl. “It should provide us all with enjoyment.”
“This is the Fox,” the Dragon told her. “He is my partner in these evenings. You will feel his hands on you as often as mine.” He paused. “All right?”
Bree swallowed and nodded. “Yes. His hands and fingers feel very good. “
More than she could begin to express. Touching you, she heard again in her mind. Yes, they were right. Every new surface that came in contact with her ratcheted up the arousal factor.
The Dragon laughed, a low sound. “You will have many opportunities to feel them on and in your body. So now we begin.”
Bree heard the sound of aerosol, then the Fox’s lean fingers carefully spread an air-filled mixture over her entire pubis.
“Shaving cream?” she asked.
“Whipped cream. When we are finished, the Fox will lick you clean.”
The cream had a frothy sensation to it, not quite as thick as shaving cream, and felt good against her skin as the Fox covered every inch of her sex, rubbing a large amount into her inner lips and all the way down her slit to her anus.
”I will shave,” the Dragon went on, “and the Fox will assist.”
“Why is he called the Fox?” Bree wanted to know.
“You will find out before the evening is over. Now. You must relax. Open your lips for me.”
She did so and felt a thin, slick glass tube rest on her bottom lip. A straw. She closed her mouth over it and sucked the liquid slowly into her mouth. A combination both sweet and tart, its flavour burst on her tongue, spreading the taste throughout her mouth. Although it was cool, it warmed her as it slid down her throat. The combination of flavours and temperatures excited her senses, and whatever was in the drink made her relax.
Unclasping her mouth from the straw, she asked, “What is this?”
“Nothing harmful, I assure you. No drugs. Just a mild potion so you will be calm until we are finished shaving you.”
He smoothed a hand over her forehead as he took the glass away. In the next minute, she felt his fingers on the insides of her thighs, the tips of them like a rough caress, as he pushed the skin away from the sides of her mound.
The next thing she felt was a glide of steel over the top of her mound, short, smooth strokes as the Fox removed a section of curls. She heard the razor clink against the side of a bowl as he rinsed it, then after a pause another glide. The Dragon, she thought. They’re taking turns. She heard the swishing sound as the razor danced through the water after every stroke. The drink had mellowed her, and she found herself drifting as the steel slipped through patch after patch of hair. She knew all the external curls were gone when someone—the Fox or the Dragon—blew a warm stream of air on her and her newly bared skin reacted with extra sensitivity.
A fingertip rimmed the opening to her vagina—the Fox. It was too smooth to be the Dragon—and it was concerned when he spoke.
“She is so wet, Dragon. I don’t know if I will last through the rest of the program.”
The Dragon’s chuckle was loud and lusty. “Of course, you will, my friend. And it will be worth it. See, my friends,” he boomed into the microphone, “what a liquid beauty she is. And sensitive. Already her pussy weeps copiously.”
“I want to touch it,” a woman’s voice called out.
“Do you have a silver ship?”
“Yes,” the woman answered.
“Then you may come down here and turn it in as soon as we are finished shaving.”
Bree had to grit her teeth to keep herself from releasing even more cream as the thought of having yet another pair of hands probing her. caused a rush of heat to rise through her body.
The Dragon’s roughened fingertips spread the outer lips of her cunt for the Fox to shave away the inner hair. She was so relaxed from the drink that the feel of the slick razor was like the kiss of tempered metal, sharp yet smooth, each stroke like an erotic caress. They paid careful attention to detail, these two men, lifting her buttocks from the table and spreading the cheeks to remove even the fine hair around her anus.
Something narrow and not as firm as the steel—plastic, she thought—was inserted into her vagina, and with an aerosol hiss her slick channel was filled with another spray of whipped cream.
The Dragon—she recognised the feel of his lips—bent down and closed his mouth over one of her engorged nipples protruding through the bars of the clamp, biting it gently, his teeth like a row of tiny little pins. As the jolt of pleasure/pain shot through her, a long, stiff tongue thrust into her cunt, and the Fox began lapping at the confection, sucking it out of her vagina.
She was acutely aware of the feel of each separate surface. The combination of the cool fluffy cream and the slightly bumpy tongue against her smooth inner skin would have sent her into orbit were it not for the drink still coursing through her bloodstream.
She recognised the raspy feel of the Dragon’s fingertips as he opened her even more so the Fox could lap away the last of the whipped cream with long sweeping strokes caressing the very bare top of her public mound.
“I have my chip,” the woman who’d come into the room reminded the men.
“Very well.” The Dragon. “You have two minutes.”
Bree heard him move behind her then take her bursting nipples into his fingertips, rolling them and pinching them. The feel of the pleasure/pain intensified. It almost distracted her from the slim, cool finger inserting itself in her cunt, so different than the touch of either of the men. The hand was so small, the skin so soft, she knew it had to be female. A fingernail scraped
her inner flesh, gently so as not to cause discomfort, and spread the new juices flooding her channel into the delicate skin.
“I love the feel of your cream,” the woman told her, adding a second finger to the first, then a third. She withdrew all her fingers and began spreading the liquid coating them over Bree’s bare pubis. The texture was almost like the gel Solange had used on her, and the woman’s fingers moved softly they coated each area.
“Your time is up,” the Dragon told her.
“One last touch.” She gave a musical laugh as she tweaked Bree’s clit, rubbing her soft finger once across the tip. “Thank you very much, gentlemen.”
Bree heard the click of heels on marble as the woman exited the area.
“Open your mouth again,” the Dragon commanded.
Bree obeyed, wondering what came next.
“I will rub three different artificial cocks across your tongue. You must choose the first one to be penetrated with. The one with the surface that most appeals to you.”
Bree was very familiar with dildos. She had quite a collection of her own, and wondered if these would be any different. She opened her mouth wide and something thick with the feel of velvet rolled across the surface of her tongue. It was smooth yet fluffy at the same time. She licked it twice, memorising the feel. The next one had the elastic feel of rubber and was slightly bumpy. It was also larger.
The third was slick, like glass, and as she licked it Bree realised it actually was glass, or else a highly developed plastic. There were no bumps, no imperfections, nothing to disturb its perfection. It was also the largest one, and she wondered if she’d be able to take it.
As if reading her mind, the Dragon said, “If this is the one you select, you will have no trouble taking all of it. I assure you.”
He pulled the dildo from her mouth, and Bree nodded her head. “I choose the third one.”
“Excellent. Fox, if you will help me prepare her for it? She must have three separate and different surfaces to experience at the same time.”
A narrow strip of something was laid across the bare top of her mound with the unmistakable feel of supply leather. The Fox slid the ends beneath her and snapped them together. She jumped slightly as he placed something on her clitoris, thin metal like the nipple clamps, She felt a tiny pinch, then just the metal gripping her. And finally the glass cock, only now it was cold and heavier, as if filled with a chilled liquid. The Fox took his time working it in slowly, in tiny increments, careful not to give her too much at one time, until it was fully seated inside her.
Night of the Senses Page 10
