Administering the sleeping draft proved something of an obstacle. Roger is not used to me making him a bedtime drink and at first declined the mug of hot chocolate, but on catching a whiff of mine, he changed his mind and succumbed. It was one o’clock when I crept into his room. I waited some moments before switching on the bedside light. He never flinched. His mobile lay on the bedside table, still switched on. It showed a text message from Jas… Goodnight my eagle, not long until you soar again in my arms, xx. I switched it off.
It was a long time since I’d gazed at my husband’s genitals, and never so freely. I find it quite magical, how something so soft and puny can be readily transformed into poker-firm maleness; the way the balls swell and draw up tight inside the corrugating sack, and all brought about by the mere thought, look, or touch of a woman.
I studied the bell-shaped helmet, with its pronounced coronal ridge and tiny mouth, its lips closed like a small child’s in sleep. Gently, I lifted the flaccid penis, exposing the ball sack, in its innocent slumber. ‘The sack,’ that’s what your bitch called me, isn’t it darling?’ I whispered, ‘Well, let’s make a new nest for Jas’s precious little eagle…’
My earlier practice session served me well, it needed to, for my fingers trembled with excitement as I enclosed my husband’s cock-bird in its bright new cage and secured it firmly to the ball ring with the locking pins provided. When at last my fingers snapped the steel padlock shut, my breast swelled on a tide of newfound power. I took a long hard look, and was pleasantly surprised at the sheer beauty of my husband’s cock so caged. I fetched my digital camera and took photographs from every possible angle, including several close-ups. I leaned forward, planted a delicate kiss on the bars of the cage, and knew that for the first time in my life, I had found true freedom. I put back the duvet, crept from the room, gathered my suitcases and called a taxi.
En route to the station, an inane grin kept breaking out at the thought of Roger waking to find his manhood encaged. I imagined him rushing to the garage, attacking it with pliers and screwdriver, but put my faith in the manufacturer’s boast that it would require a locksmith, or the key-holder, to set the caged bird free.
As Eurostar emerged from the tunnel into the bright light of a new French morning, I knew that in caging Roger I had discovered my destiny. I would spend the next three months planning my transformation from good old Merril, into Mistress Meryl, a woman who understands the benefits of knowing how to take complete charge of a man.
The silver-haired gentleman in the seat opposite must have noticed my fingers toying suggestively with the bright shiny key suspended from my neck on a thin silver chain, and nestling just above the first hint of cleavage. Slowly, he lowered his copy of the Financial Times; his quizzical stare met mine. And I smiled.
Travel Broadens The Mind
by Kirsten Schubinski
I’m not sure how long I’ve been here, in this room, in the dark. They blindfolded me before I got here, whoever they are, and every now and again the door of my cell opens and someone, a man, brings me food. I can tell it’s a man by his smell. Sweaty, dirty, with a spicy enigmatic overtone which I can’t place. I think I may have been here two weeks but it’s difficult to tell; shock does strange things to you. I sleep a lot and devour the food they give me. I seem to be really hungry. The man who brings me the food often lingers in the cell, watching me eat before closing the door and walking away. It used to put me off but now I’ve got used to it – it’s as if he’s never seen a woman eating before. And a blindfolded one at that. I miss a lot of food and it slips down my chin and sometimes between mouthfuls I can hear him breathing. But he hasn’t touched or harmed me in any way and I’m too damn hungry and disorientated to feel self-conscious.
We’d been warned about rebels and kidnappings in the area but I guess I never took it seriously. Neither had any of the other businessmen on the bus, talking into their mobile phones and laughing loudly together. I was one of only two women on the bus and halfway through my round the world trip, savouring the fact that now I really was getting away from the demands and responsibilities of civilisation.
Suddenly I’d realised that our bus had stopped and yet there was no checkpoint or settlement in sight. Then I heard shouting outside and gunshots. The next thing I know loads of armed men are on the bus, pointing their rifles at us, and shouting at us to get off. There are about twenty of them, all with the slanty, almost oriental, eyes of the region, high cheekbones and the kind of tan only acquired through years of hard living high up in the mountains. They wore the traditional long smocks over trousers or jeans, I remember, and chains of bullets were slung round their necks. Once outside, they had got us up against the wall of the bus and frisked us for our valuables. Then they kicked the back of our knees and pinned us to the ground before blindfolding us. I felt myself being picked up and thrown into the back of some kind of jeep, along with two other hostages. The jeep carried us, bruised and sick, up hills and down mountains, on a journey which seemed to take for ever, until we arrived here – wherever here is.
I don’t know what has happened to the others. They’re businessmen so I suppose their firms will pay a good sum of money for their return. But me, what am I worth? I’m not sure why they are still keeping me here. For a while I was terrified they would try to molest or rape me but thankfully that doesn’t seem to be part of their agenda. Now I exist in a kind of limbo; sleeping, dreaming, waking to the sound of footsteps outside my door, eating then sleeping again, being led to the hole in the ground which is the toilet and squatting in front of this mysterious man, my jailer.
Hearing the sound of his footsteps approach my cell door has become the highlight of my day. Like a clock, his regular visits give me some idea of time passing, of morning, afternoon and evening. I sit and wait for those footsteps to come and try to guess what he looks like. Pat, pat, pat down the hall come those slippered footsteps. Then the sound of the key in the lock, a creak as the door opens. A pause as he crosses the room towards me and that familiar smell again. I hated it in the beginning, but now it intrigues me, as I wonder what spices it is made up of and try to guess how old the man might be. I hold my breath as he leans over me and something rough and slightly damp brushes my lips. His hair. Maybe it’s my imagination, but this time he seems to linger over me after putting the plate down and I freeze, sniffing the air. His scent is even stronger now and I can feel the warmth of his body. Suddenly dry fingertips are at my neck, and I gasp, but don’t cry out. Somehow I don’t think they’d like it if I scream.
My breath is coming very fast as I wait to see if he is about to strangle me. His hands remain tight around my throat, but the pressure does not increase. My logic kicks in and I desperately reassure myself that if they were about to kill me they would not bring me food first.
And then suddenly for some reason I know he is not about to murder me and I relax a little, wondering what is coming next. His hands are tight and strong on my throat, but not uncomfortable. Slowly he brings them down, down my neck until he reaches my collarbone and then down into my shirt, pulling it open by separating his hands.
I’m not wearing any bra and my breasts fall out of my now gaping shirt, into the cool air. I hold my breath, waiting. He is still very close, but doesn’t touch me. A moment later I hear him move back and away from me and settle down a little distance away. I can just about hear his breathing. The minutes pass like hours while he just sits there. I get a vision of what this must look like – I’m sitting here in this tiny room, blindfolded, my tits hanging out, while some strange terrorist sits and just looks at me. I should be terrified but I’m not, I realise – I’m aroused.
I am very aware of the slight weight of my breasts, I can feel the cool air touching them and I sense the nipples harden and swell. Maybe it’s my imagination but I think his breathing is faster than before. Still nothing happens.
After a while I think I may as well eat the food he’s brought me and I fumble around for the plate.
Suddenly he moves quickly towards me and his hand brushes mine as I fumble for the plate in the dark. He snatches it away from me and a minute later I feel his dry fingers again, this time at my lips. He separates them with his hand, opens my mouth wide and starts feeding me with the other hand. Part of me is in shock, but the other part of me is hungry and enjoying the game. Another part wonders if he is into rape after all.
Sometimes pieces of food miss my mouth and slip down my chin, onto my breasts. I can feel the slimy pieces of food sliding down my chest and I want him to move them away. I want him to touch me. The more he feeds me, ignoring my exposed breasts, the more my nipples harden and lengthen, trying to cover the distance between us. The food is all gone and we sit there motionless, until I move ever so slightly towards him, wanting his dry hands again. But he pushes me back, and I let out a tiny moan, despite myself. He laughs, a soft chuckle, and then we listen to each other’s rapid breathing in the tiny room.
Suddenly I feel warm breath on my left nipple and his other hand ever so gently circling my right. His tongue is applying such slight pressure I’m not sure it is really his tongue, until he starts to suck at me, slowly, gently, deliberately. At the same time he pulls at my other nipple, again at the same rhythm, softly and gently pulling my breasts towards him and back again. I moan again, loudly, as I feel him begin to suck and pull at me a little harder. He moans too, and the sound shocks me, it is so deep and hoarse and turned-on.
My arms grab at him, and I touch his neck, his head, his hair, his mouth. I give him my open mouth and then my tongue. Our tongues meet briefly, gently, then his tongue begins to explore my mouth, first licking my lips softly then flicking in and out of the sides, then probing my mouth more deeply, sucking on me, softly biting my lips. I can hear him panting.
But now he’s kissing me too greedily, too quickly. His rough cheeks are stinging my face, his mouth bruising me. After a minute more of discomfort I turn my head away. A pause, then I feel him take my chin in one hand and turn me back to face him. He takes my upper lip between his teeth. I can feel his sharp incisors biting down, oh so gently, on the flesh. Then he kisses me, unbelievably gently, for what seems like an age, until I have absolutely no resistance left. I feel light as air and as weak as paper.
All this time he has been pulling and pushing at my breasts, building up my sexual tension, until I feel my clitoris pushing at my jeans. I want him inside me, whoever he is, my invisible lover-come-jailer. I don’t suppose he’s heard of the sexual revolution, I know for a fact that he doesn’t wash very often, but I’m sure he knows how to fuck.
Anyone who knows how to touch and kiss a woman like this will know how to fuck her just the way she needs to be fucked. I reach out for his cock but his clothes get in the way and he chuckles again. I arch my back and let out a soft scream as he bites at my nipples and takes my body in his arms. Then he bites my neck and I let go, willing him to do whatever he wants with me. For a moment we stay in this position. Then he gently pushes me back against the wall, disengages himself and his soft footsteps leave the room. The door bangs behind him and he is gone.
After Hours
by Kristina Wright
Dinner in the city hadn’t been what Natalie had in mind after a hectic day at the hospital, but now that she was sitting across from Ryan, enjoying a wonderful meal at one of the best restaurants in the city, she couldn’t help but smile.
‘I’m really glad you talked me into going out tonight,’ she said. ‘I would have been happy to stay in and curl up with you, but this is nice.’
Ryan’s dark eyes sparkled in the candlelight. ‘Wait until later.’
‘What happens later?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ He reached across the table and stroked the inside of her wrist. ‘What are you wearing under your skirt?’
‘You’ll find out later,’ she answered, a little shiver dancing up her spine. She wasn’t wearing anything at all under her short, black skirt, but she wanted to tease him the way he was teasing her.
‘I can’t wait. I want to be so deep inside you.’
She shifted in her chair; suddenly, instantly aroused by Ryan’s intense gaze. The sexual tension was nearly palpable. ‘Oh God, you’re making me crazy.’
Ryan laughed. ‘I’m making us both crazy. Let’s get out of here.’
After the check had been paid, Ryan led Natalie in the opposite direction from where he’d parked the car. She assumed this was part of his plan for the evening and contentedly tucked her arm through his and pressed her face to his shoulder. She felt like a cat in heat, wanting to rub her body all over him until he fucked her silly. She giggled, feeling a little drunk. Whether it was from the two bottles of wine they had shared at dinner or the sexual anticipation, she wasn’t sure. Nor did she care.
When she realised they were outside the building where he worked, she paused. ‘Why are we here?’
Ryan led her through the door and into the lobby. ‘I forgot some paperwork I need for tomorrow. It’ll only take a second.’
The security guard wasn’t too happy about them going up to Ryan’s office after hours, but Ryan finally convinced him it would be all right. Once the doors closed behind them on the elevator, Ryan pulled Natalie close and kissed her. She melted against him, his solid erection letting her know how aroused he already was.
He kept kissing her as the elevator climbed to his office floor. Finally, the doors opened and he pulled back. ‘We’re here.’
Natalie blinked at him. ‘You’d better hurry up, because I don’t know how much longer I can wait before I rip your clothes off.’
He laughed. ‘You’re cute when you’re feeling slutty.’
He took her by the hand and pulled her into his dark office, closing the door firmly behind him.
‘Ryan, what are you doing?’
He pulled her close, fondling one breast until the nipple hardened beneath her silk blouse. ‘What do you want me to do?’
She looked at the door, expecting a security guard to burst in on them at any moment. ‘I don’t know if this is a good idea.’
‘No?’
‘No,’ she said. She was having a hard time concentrating on what it was she was so worried about because Ryan was slowly pulling up her skirt.
He walked her backward until she was leaning up against the desk. Then he pressed against her, letting her feel the full, hard length of his cock. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her, rubbing against him, desperate to feel him inside her.
‘I know you’ve been having a rough week,’ he murmured as he kissed and nibbled his way down her neck to her collarbone. ‘So I thought I’d help you relieve your stress.’
Natalie ran her hands down his back, giving his ass a squeeze. ‘How are you going to do that?’
‘I’m going to fuck you on my desk.’
She moaned. ‘You’re bad.’
Ryan made as if to pull away. ‘Well, we can go back to your place if you want…’
‘Come back here,’ she said, pulling him to her by his shirt. ‘I want you to fuck me on your desk. Hard.’
‘Oh, I will,’ he promised. ‘But I want to see what I’m doing.’
Ryan crossed to the wall and turned on the light. Natalie blinked in the suddenly well-lit office. The blinds were open and though they were twenty floors up and surrounded by empty office buildings, she felt exposed and vulnerable. Before she could change her mind about their naughty adventure, Ryan returned and took her in his arms.
‘Relax,’ he whispered as he lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the desk. ‘Let me take care of you.’
Natalie braced her arms on the desk and spread her legs wider as he slid his hands up the insides of her thighs under her skirt. She shivered when his fingertips brushed her bare pussy.
‘You’re not wearing underwear,’ Ryan said, his voice husky with barely controlled lust. ‘Naughty girl.’
Natalie giggled. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
He knelt down in front of her and flipped the edge of her skirt up, baring her to his gaze. Then he kissed the inside of her thigh, following the same path as his fingers, until his tongue swirled around her engorged clitoris.
‘Oh, Ryan,’ she moaned, as she clutched at his shoulders. ‘Lick me, make me come.’
It was so wrong, being here like this, but she didn’t care any more. All she cared about was the feeling of Ryan’s tongue on her cunt. Ryan slid a finger inside her as he licked her, making her gasp and thrash on the desk. She wanted more, wanted him inside her, wanted to come so badly she was gasping and whimpering with need.
After what felt like an eternity of licking and teasing, Ryan used his fingers and tongue to drive her over the edge to a delicious, powerful orgasm. Even though she knew they might get caught, she couldn’t help moaning loudly from the intensity of her orgasm. As the spasms inside her body subsided, she sat up and smiled. ‘That was incredible. Your turn,’ she said.
Before he could respond, she was on her knees in front of him, unzipping his pants and freeing his hard cock. She moaned softly as she took him between her lips, sucking the head gently before taking more of him into her mouth. She looked up at him as she sucked, knowing he loved to look into her eyes while she held him in her mouth.
Ryan ran his fingers through her long hair, staring down at her. ‘That feels so good,’ he whispered.
She licked and sucked him, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could before slowly pulling back. All the while, she kept looking up at him, meeting his steady, intense gaze.
Ryan groaned and pulled away. ‘I need to fuck you,’ he said. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her. ‘Turn around.’
Natalie turned so that she was facing the desk. ‘Like this?’ she asked, bracing her hands on the desk and wiggling her behind.
Tie Me Up Page 11
