by Sky Corgan
The moment my sight is taken from me, my breathing starts becoming ragged and shallow. My other senses go on high alert, and I feel extra sensitive, to everything.
“I'm not going to hurt you, Amy,” he tells me soothingly, and it does help a little. “We're just going to do a bit of sensation play.”
The first thing I feel is his lips on my chest. My body melts into the comforter below as his gentle kiss lulls me into a sense of security. He moves slowly, with purpose, lingering on each spot, swirling his tongue over my skin. I moan softly, enjoying the feel of his lips as they trail down between my breasts and over my stomach, though I find myself sucking in when he gets to my tummy.
“Stop it.” He taps my stomach. “You're beautiful just the way you are.”
His words flood me with warmth. Does he really think that, or is he just saying it to make me feel better? If it's the later of the two, it has worked.
I try to relax and wait for his next move.
His fingertips play over the swell of my breasts, rubbing back and forth, teasing the soft skin there while he kisses my forehead and then my lips. A chaste kiss, leaving me wanting more. That's what this is all about though. The tease.
He pushes his hands beneath me to unclasp my bra. Then he pulls it all the way off and up until it catches on my bound wrists. I blush as my breasts are exposed, even though I know he's seen them before. It always feels a bit strange being at his mercy like this, knowing that he's looking at my imperfect body. I can never quite get used to it.
His palms press into my flesh, grabbing two handfuls of my breasts, his fingers kneading into me as he squeezes gently. My nipples bead beneath the heat of his hands, which causes me to blush more. Just the simplest touch from him makes arousal pool below, perhaps because I know things are only going to get more intense from here.
I concentrate on my breathing and feeling his fingertips move over me. He traces them across my collarbone, around my breasts, over my ribcage. Then he does it again, diverting from the original path to cover more area. Every time his fingers brush against one of my nipples, I feel a wave of pleasure course from my chest to my clit, making it throb.
On the third pass, his hands explore all the way down to my panties. He grabs the waistband and removes them slowly. I hear a soft thud as he tosses them off of the bed. Then my breath hitches as his thumb digs between my folds to make a few teasing circles around my cleft. I groan and wiggle a little, spreading my thighs for him.
“That's a good girl. Spread them wider. I want to see that pretty pink pussy of yours.”
I obey, bowing my legs so that he can crawl between them. I expect him to touch me right away, but instead, his weight shifts on the bed, and I hear the bedside table drawer open again.
My heartbeat speeds up as I wonder what he's doing. It's the first time I've felt a twinge of fear all night.
This isn't like Flesh. There was no list when I walked into his house where I could write down what I'd allow him to do to me. The ball is in his court, at this point. I have absolutely no clue what he's pulling out of the drawer, and that thought is unsettling. It could be anything.
“What are you doing?” I ask, allowing my internal panicking to get the better of me.
“You'll see.” I can hear the grin in his voice. He knows he's frightening me—driving me crazy. It's annoying that he's getting enjoyment out of it.
I hold my breath as his body weight shifts back onto the bed, waiting with a ball of knots in my stomach for what he's going to do to me. The second I feel something touch my chest, I flinch.
“Calm down, it's just my hand.” He flattens his palm against my chest, giving me a moment to adjust to the sensation.
“I don't like not knowing what you're going to do.”
“If you keep talking, I won't do anything.” His hand withdraws from me, and it seems like the rest of his body has followed. I don't feel the closeness from him that was there before. He's disappointed in me, probably sitting back and just staring at me, wondering if this was a bad idea.
For several moments, the room is silent aside from our breathing. Now I'm panicking for a completely different reason. Did I piss him off? Is he losing interest? I certainly don't want that. But at the same time, I'm just so scared. The fact that I don't completely trust him is shining through like the brightest rays of the sun.
“What do you think I'm going to do to you?” he asks.
The question makes me tense up. “I don't know.”
“Something horrible?” There's a hint of anger in his voice.
“I don't know.” I bite my bottom lip.
“I do horrible things to people.”
The hollowness of his words fill me with dread. He sounds alien—not the same man. Genuine fear wells up inside of me, and I think of every horror movie I've ever seen where a gorgeous, charismatic guy ends up being the killer. This would be the part where he stabs me to death. It just falls in line with everything that the media has taught me to believe. I desperately want to squirm out of my restraints, but I know he's watching me, and I know he'll react. No matter how I look at it, I'm screwed.
“But people enjoy the horrible things I do to them,” he continues, his tone softer this time. “I would never do anything to you that I didn't think you'd enjoy.”
I cry out as I feel something soft touch my chest—something that's not his hand. It takes a few seconds for my brain to process the sensation. I'm so busy concentrating on lowering the rapid beating of my heart, that my body is in delayed response mode.
He trails the object between my breasts, then over my nipples. It tickles more than anything else. Feathery. Light. Soft. Feathers! It's a feather tickler. My body relaxes at the realization, and I internally curse myself for being such a baby, for allowing my mind to turn the sensual situation into a horror movie.
“I'm disappointed that you don't trust me,” he says.
“I'm sorry,” is the only thing I can think of to respond. Even though his reprimanding is gentle, it still causes an emotional flood to shift through me and make my eyes water.
Oh no, this is going to be our first time together all over again. It's the countdown until I start sobbing uncontrollably. He's going to think you're a complete baby if you do. Suck it up, Amy. He can't see you now. If you can just get it under control before he pulls the blindfold off.
I hiccup, and he pauses for a moment. A new fear assaults me—the fear of him catching me crying again. Thankfully, though, he continues what he's doing, dragging the tickler slowly over my skin.
His movements are sensual, and when he drags the tickler across my nipples, it does feel good. If anything, it's more soothing than arousing.
I suck in a breath as the toy makes its way lower and lower. Lucian spreads my pussy lips with his fingers and teases the tickler over my clit. It throbs in response, but not from the toy. More from the thought that he's touching me down there. Then he drags it slowly across my inner thigh, which makes me giggle.
“See, nothing painful about this.”
I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me relax even more. I'm safe in his care. Why I didn't realize that before, I don't know. Perhaps because we still don't know each other very well.
The bed shifts again, and I hear a small tapping sound, which makes me think he set the tickler down on the bedside table. Then his weight focuses between my legs. His hands press on my inner thighs, rubbing and massaging them. I moan, the tears beneath my eyes quickly drying.
Disaster averted.
The bed moves beneath me as he repositions himself. I'm honestly not sure what he's doing until I feel a warm breath waft over my pussy lips, sending my nerves on high alert. His mouth is close to my sex. He's going to...
My breathing picks up again as I feel him spreading me with his thumbs. The thought that he's looking at me is embarrassing. A thick digit rubs over my clit softly, teasingly. I bite my tongue to keep from moaning again.
“Do you want me to to
uch you down here?” he asks.
“Mhm.” I nod.
“Do you want me to taste you down here?”
The question is so crude that I don't think I can force myself to answer it. I wrinkle my nose.
“Is that a no?” He presses harder, sliding his thumb all the way down to my hole and then back up again. Every time he touches my clit, I feel my orgasm building. It won't be long.
“Yes,” I squeak.
“Yes you don't want me to taste you, or yes you do?” He leans in and kisses my clit, which makes my hormones go insane.
“Yes, I do, Sir.”
“Sir,” he parrots, chuckling lightly. “That's a good girl.”
The first flick of his tongue across my clit about sends me over the edge. I dig my nails into the pantyhose to ground myself. It's too soon. I can't come yet. Not yet.
His tongue slicks around my cleft before he sucks my clit up into his mouth. I try my best not to squirm as all of my arousal pools to that one tiny bundle of nerves.
As he sucks on me, he pushes two fingers into my pussy, and I quickly clamp around them. He's not gentle. Not caring about being a tease. The fingers begin to move, probing in and out roughly. Meanwhile, his mouth is all licking and sucking and making my climax rocket to the surface.
I try to hold it back, for as long as I can, but it's no use. The combined sensation of his amazing oral skills and his fingers pumping into me drives me over the edge at staggering speeds. Shamelessly, I cry out loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear as my body floods with pleasure.
“Mmm yeah,” he whispers into me, barely missing a beat. He withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his tongue. His arms wrap around my hips, and he pulls me up into him, burying his face between my legs. It's so hot that I worry I might come all over his face a second time.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, consumed with the feeling of his tongue and mouth devouring me. It's the best thing ever.
He sucks a path back up to my clit, but by that time, I'm too sensitive. I let out a small whimper, and he immediately drops me down onto the bed. His weight shifts again, and I hear the rustling of clothing.
The next thing I feel is his cock slapping against my clit. I can't believe how heavy it feels. Maybe it's because I'm blindfolded and my brain is processing things differently, but it seems like his cock weighs a good ten pounds. It's probably just his arousal pressing it down against me though.
“You're going to be a good girl for me this time, won't you?” his voice is full of lust, and it only makes my engines rev again.
“Yes, Sir.”
“When I put it in you this time, I'm not going to stop. Even if you cry and scream and beg, I'm going to fuck you until I get my fill.”
Holy mother of sexy. My pussy clenches from his words. I want this. I want him to be rough, to do things to me that no man ever has.
I brace myself for the intrusion, but no amount of mental pep talks can prepare me for that intense spreading feeling. He bucks into me with one quick thrust, making me cry out. Good God, he's big. It hurts even worse than it did yesterday, because I'm still sore. He hisses in pleasure, pushing himself as far into me as he can fit.
“Mmm your pussy feels so good. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a virgin yesterday. But you didn't bleed.”
I can't believe he's actually talking about this. It makes my face heat up. I'm not sure if he expects me to respond, but I don't.
He wraps his hands around my hips, pulling me against him, repositioning our bodies. Then he slides all the way out of me slowly before ramming himself in again. My breath hitches from the roughness of it. He seems to like the gasping sounds that I make, because he does it a few more times before he leans over me and begins thrusting.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth until the pain passes, until the lubrication of my body makes him slide in and out of me with ease, and the discomfort melts into pleasure. It's euphoric being with him like this, though it would be far better if I could see him. Again, the blindfold becomes my enemy. I want to look into his amazing blue eyes, want to watch his muscles flex as his body moves on top of mine, want to see his monster cock pumping in and out of me. I like being fucked by him. It makes me so stupidly happy, even if he isn't romantic. He's definitely not romantic. He's something else. Something I've never experienced before. Something entirely different.
After a while, he turns me onto my side, straddling one of my legs and holding the other up against his chest before he enters me again. I feel like a doll, positioned for his pleasure. I don't care though. All that matters is that he keeps fucking me, keeps making me feel like this. Fulfilled in a way I haven't felt in a while, though I can't really explain it.
He lets my leg fall back down, then he hooks both of my legs over his hips and goes to pound town. He picks up the pace, hammering into me, causing delicious pulses at my core that signal another climax is on its way. More than anything, I wish I could wrap my arms around his neck and hold him to me, but I know he wouldn't want that. He wants me to lay beneath him obediently. I have to be good, or he might stop completely. And I definitely don't want him to stop.
His breathing is ragged now. His cock feels amazingly hot. I whimper between clenched teeth as the stretching sensation reverts back to pleasure-pain. He's fucking me raw. Being brutal and selfish and amazing. For as much as I loved having sex with David, the soft way that we made love, there's a part of me that likes this a lot more. It always took me so long to orgasm with David. Sometimes, it didn't even happen. With Lucian, I feel like I'm always on the brink. And I'm about to fall over right...
He stills against me, and the overwhelming pleasure I feel from his cock twitching inside of me makes me come all over his dick. The orgasm is intense. Everything around me goes dark, darker than even being blind, and the world seems to stop moving completely. Lucian curses as he bucks into me a few more times, his cock feeling impossibly big as it spurts its load into me. I can't believe he's coming inside of me, but to be honest, it only turns me on that much more. No man has ever come inside of me before. I've never allowed it to happen. But here, where I feel like I have no control, it seems okay. And oddly enough, it just makes me feel more intimately connected to Lucian. It makes my own orgasm that much better, to know that he's filling me up, that what's happening between us could cause an unbreakable connection.
Baby fever in the middle of sex. What in the hell is wrong with me? I don't know this guy. I definitely don't want to be having his kid. I need to snap out of it.
The second my orgasm subsides, my mind goes into overdrive. The pleasure of our simultaneous climax wanes, and I begin to linger on that baby subject. The birth control I'm on has a ninety-seven percent pregnancy prevention rate, but it would be my luck that I'd be in the three percent.
Lucian pulls out of me, and I feel a sticky stream of wetness trail behind which makes me want to clamp my legs together, though that's probably the wrong reaction. I need to take a shower, pronto.
I try to wiggle free from the pantyhose, but it's no use, so instead, I pull off the blindfold. Lucian already has his dick back in his pants and is crawling off of the bed. Once his feet hit the ground, he helps me sit up and starts working on untying my wrists.
“That was...something else,” I say breathlessly.
“It was good.” He doesn't even look at me as he tugs at the hose until it finally loosens around my wrists, and I'm able to pull free. No doubt, this pair is completely ruined. If it doesn't have runs in it, it's stretched beyond wearability.
I smooth the hose out, looking at Lucian shyly while he picks my clothes up off of the floor and sets them on the bed next to me. It doesn't take a genius to realize that he doesn't want to cuddle.
“So,” I drag the word out, wanting to talk, but not knowing what to say.
He avoids my gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “I appreciate you coming here today, and I'm looking forward to working with you on the project. If
you don't mind, I need to start getting dressed. I have somewhere to be in an hour.”
My mouth falls agape at his dismissal, but I quickly recover, shaking my head as if coming out of a dream. “Oh, sure. That's fine. I guess I'll get dressed, then.”
Getting dressed is the last thing I want to do, putting my underwear back on when I'm still so full of his seed. It seems incredibly rude that he's kicking me out now.
“Your bathroom is...” I grab my clothes and point to the door that obviously leads to the master bathroom.
“Yes.” He nods, then turns away from me to rummage through his chest of drawers.
My eyes fixate on his back for a second before I push myself off of the bed and head into the bathroom. His bathroom is absolutely massive with a jacuzzi tub and a walk-in shower that could easily fit about half a dozen people. If I wasn't in such a hurry to get dressed and leave, I probably would have stood and marveled at it for a while. Everything is expensive and done in marble.
Instead of lingering though, I grab some toilet paper to clean myself off as best I can before putting my underwear back on and shimmying into my skirt and blouse. By the time I leave the bathroom, Lucian is already dressed, wearing black from head to toe, perfectly fitted slacks with a dress shirt and tie. The only sign that he was indecent moments prior is his just-fucked hair. I'm not really sure how it got that way since I wasn't able to run my fingers through it. One of the amazing mysteries of sex.
I expect him to say something, but the whole atmosphere between us is nothing but awkward as he leads me towards the front door. It's the walk of shame. The part where I realize that what we did was just sex to him, and I start breaking down emotionally. I can already feel myself beginning to crumble, the tears stalking below the surface, waiting for a crack in my exterior to come gushing through full force.
“Drive safe,” he tells me as he opens the front door to usher me out.
