Holding the Ping-Pong ball, Barbara crossed the room and stood before CJ. He stared at her legs and glared. She looked down, then separated her feet.
“Stand with your chest against the wall.”
She moved so she stood facing a bare wall, then felt his hand on her back, pressing her tightly against the cold surface. He raised her arms above her head, spread about as far apart as her feet. “How much of this do you want?” he asked. “I can make you cry or beg, I can hurt you or just control you. What do you want? This is the last decision you will make.”
Barbara thought. She wanted to try everything. She didn’t know whether pain would be a turn-on, but she had the ball in her hand and she trusted CJ completely. “Everything,” she whispered. “I want to try it all.”
“Good girl,” he said. Then she felt the snap as cold metal cuffs were locked onto her wrists and ankles, then CJ attached the cuffs to the wall. She couldn’t move. Then CJ placed cotton balls against her eyes, and covered them with a blindfold. She could see nothing.
“Now,” he said, “we begin.” He inserted his finger in her slit. “Such a hot slut, he said. “So wet. Let’s cool you down a little.”
Barbara heard noises, then jumped as something very cold pressed against her heated lips. The frozen object was inserted into her channel. “Some ice should cool you off a bit. You’re much too excited.” He rubbed another ice cube over her slit, numbing her flesh, yet heating her belly.
“God, that’s too cold,” she said.
“You will say nothing, or I’ll gag you, too.” When she shuddered, she felt a wad of cloth stuffed into her mouth, then another cloth stretched between her teeth and tied behind her head. Then he rubbed her clit and laughed. “You want this. Your body tells me everything.”
She did want it. She wanted to give everything over to this man with the magic voice. He could do everything to her, all the things she had only dreamed about. Cold water trickled down her inner thigh but she couldn’t move to wipe it off. Her mind traveled to the ball in her hand. She wouldn’t drop it. Not yet. Maybe not at all.
“Now, let’s see how you like this part.” Suddenly she felt a hard slap on her right buttock. Then one on her left.
She groaned, making strange strangled sounds around the gag in her mouth. Again and again, his hand landed on her heated flesh. She burned. She throbbed, yet she was also incredibly turned on. The music filled her mind and the pleasure/pain filled her body. She could control her body no longer and she climaxed. Without anyone touching her pussy, without being filled with anything but an ice cube.
“No self-control,” he said, laughing again. “I like that, but you’re much too easy. Maybe now that you’ve come once, you’ll be more of a challenge.” Barbara felt CJ rub some lotion on her hot buttocks, kneading and caressing her skin from the small of her back to her cheeks. Some of the liquid trickled into her slit, oozing over her asshole and joining with the water still running from her icy cunt.
When her flaming ass was a bit cooler, CJ unclipped her cuffs from the wall and led her across the room. He placed her hands on a table of some kind, then pushed her so she was bent over the soft leather cover, her feet on the floor, her upper body cradled in the soft fabric, her arms hanging down. Still holding the Ping-Pong ball, her hands were cuffed to the front legs of the table and her ankles to the rear two. There were openings in the table so her breasts hung freely.
She felt fingers pulling on her nipples, then lightweight clips attached to the hard, erect flesh. “Just so you won’t forget your tits,” the wonderful voice said. Then he continued. “I know you can’t talk, but shake your head. Have you ever been taken in the ass?”
Barbara shook her head.
“Oh, a virgin. That’s wonderful.”
He left her lying across the table, unable to move, her blindfold and gag in place, tits hanging, with the clips attached. Although it was difficult, Barbara used the moment to catch her breath and come down from the earth-moving climax that had ripped through her while he was spanking her. But although she had come once, hard, she knew she was close to coming again.
Then she felt his mouth beside her ear. “I have a dildo in my hand. It’s quite slender, but wide enough to fill your ass. Remember the ball in your hand. I will know if it falls.”
Barbara felt him stroke her back, then press his hand against her waist. “I’m going to rub some lubricant on now.” The sound of his voice, telling her what he was going to do was unbelievably erotic. “Your ass will feel so filled, so fucked. It will feel strange, but wonderful.” He rubbed cold, slippery gel over her ass, sliding his finger in just a tiny amount. Then he slowly inserted a slender plastic rod into her previously unviolated rear.
‘No,” she tried to say around the gag. “Don’t.” But she didn’t drop the ball from her hand. “No.”
“Oh, yes,” he purred, slowly driving the rod deeper into her body. When it was lodged inside her, he stopped and left it there.
“Oh, God,” she mumbled. Then his finger was rubbing her clit and she came again. She couldn’t help it. The orgasm ripped through her, making her entire body pulse.
“Such a good slut, but again too easy. But it’s my turn now.” A moment later, he said, “I just want to assure you that I’m using a condom, so you don’t have to worry.” His cock rubbed against her cunt, moving the dildo that still filled her ass. His hips and groin pressed against her burning ass, forcing the dildo still deeper into her ass. He plunged his cock into her pussy and she came yet again, her spasms clutching at him. It took only a few thrusts for him to bellow his release.
A while later, CJ released Barbara’s wrists and ankles, then removed the blindfold and gag. “You’re so receptive. It makes me crazy when you come like that.”
“So good for me, too,” Barbara said, her breathing still ragged. “It’s never been any better.”
The silence broken only by the music, they dressed. There was no talk of dinner. She realized they had never even kissed. “Please come to my store again,” CJ said as he opened the outer door. “There are several more things I can show you and some I’m sure you could show me.”
“Maybe,” she said, not being coy, just unsure whether she would repeat the experience. “I don’t really know.”
“That’s fine,” he said. Then he placed two tapes in her hand. “For another time,” he said. “I just made these recently and they both focus on performing for an audience. If you’re ever interested in living out this type of fantasy, let me know.” With the tapes she saw that he had handed her his business card. “CJ Winterman. A Private Place. Unusual Items and Entertainments of All Sorts.” It contained the store’s address and a phone number. “The number rings here in the store and in my apartment upstairs.”
Barbara put the tapes and the card in her pocket. “Thank you,” she said, walking toward the door. “For everything.”
That night Barbara lay in bed and put the tape into the player. The expected music filled the room and CJ’s voice, a voice she could now put a face and a body to, began to spin his latest tale. She let herself drift into the story.
The club was warm and the lights low as the music began for the last show of the evening. Marianne stood at the side of the small stage, ready for her first effort at entertaining the patrons at the Exotica Club, a totally nude review club a few miles from her home. She had practiced her act and thought she could give them a good show. After all, she had watched the performances often enough.
It had all begun a year earlier when the club first opened. Her husband, Matt, had frequented a similar club in the city before their marriage and had often told her about the wild dancing at the storefront club be had gone to. When the Exotica Club opened, she and Matt had been among its first patrons. A bit raw at first, the club’s entertainment bad improved. The comedians had become increasingly talented, the singers more professional, and the dancers more skillful in their movements. Now, a year later, shows were sold out weeks in advance an
d lines formed early in the evening to get the few tables or spots at the bar that might become available.
Thursday night had evolved into Talent Night, when anyone could sign up for a spot on the program and, after much urging from Matt, Marianne had finally listed herself among the performers. As she stood in the wings watching the first woman take her turn, she looked into the audience. Matt sat at a table right in front and Marianne watched him gazing at the slender, small-bosomed woman who strutted around the stage to “The Stripper.” She removed her clothing slowly but a bit awkwardly, Marianne thought. The next act was a new, young comedian whose routine was filled with expletives and was quite funny. He was followed by a male dancer and a woman in a slinky dress who sang several erotic songs.
Finally, as a couple performed a tango, almost copulating right on the stage, Marianne realized that she was next, and last, on the program. The couple’s performance was followed by cheers from the audience. As she looked past the lights, she could see several couples engaged in sexual play, hands in crotches rubbing, caressing. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, she thought.
The lights dimmed and a stagehand pushed a large washtub onto the center of the stage and set a short stool beside it. Marianne picked up a basket of old clothes and, as the lights brightened and some soft music began, she walked slowly to the center of the stage. She was wearing a small pinafore that barely concealed her breasts and covered the front of a short skirt that came only to midthigh. She was barefoot, her long blond hair was braided, and she wore almost no make up.
As background music played, she put her basket down, sat on the stool, her knees widely spread so the audience could see the crotch of her white panties, and took a pair of men’s briefs from the basket. She glanced at Matt and saw him grinning from ear to ear. She knew how much he loved watching her and, although there were probably almost a hundred people watching, Marianne performed for him alone.
She took an old-fashioned wash board and started to scrub the pants, sloshing water everywhere, including all over herself. After a moment, she stood up and tried to sluice the water from the top of her pinafore. All she succeeded in doing was wetting the entire front so her breasts were easily visible. “Oh, my,” she said, looking innocently into the audience. “Oh, my.” She covered her breasts and giggled, then looked into the laundry basket. She found a white T-shirt she had put there because not only was it too tight but it had been washed so many times it was almost transparent.
She turned her back to the audience, took off the pinafore and put the T-shirt on. “Better?” she asked softly as she turned back to the gathering. Her breasts were clearly visible and her dark nipples were pressing against the front.
“Yeah,” some yelled.
“Take it all off,” yelled others.
“I couldn’t do that,” she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
There were whistles and groans, cheers and calls of, “Yeah, right.”
“I have to get back to work,” she said and sat back on the stool, giving the audience another clear view of her crotch. Again she washed an item and again sloshed water everywhere. By now, whatever had been partially hidden by the T-shirt was fully revealed and her skirt was soaked as well. “Oh, my,” she said again, holding her skirtfront and squeezing water from the fabric. “Oh, my.”
The watchers silenced, waiting for her to remove more clothing. She turned her back to the audience and unbuttoned her skirt, letting it fall around her feet. All the while, soft music played in the background. Finally she turned back to the sea of eyes watching her, now wearing only the soaked T-shirt and a pair of tiny white panties.
“Oh, yeah, lady. Right on.”
Again she sat and washed another garment, now soaking herself. “Oh, my,” she said as she stood up and watched water run from her body. “Oh, my.” She slowly ran her hands over her skin, ostensibly scraping the water from her legs and belly. Then she wrung out the front of her T-shirt, smiled sweetly to the audience and shrugged. With agonizing deliberation, she pulled the soaked shirt off, eventually revealing her white skin, her breasts, and dark, dusky nipples. She appeared to try to cover herself, then shrugged and apparently gave up. Then she slowly she removed the ribbons that held her hair and fluffed it free. It fell almost to the small of her back and she slowly ran her fingers through it, arranging it so it flowed down her chest, and almost, but not quite, covered her breasts.
Now, as she sat on the stool, she was only clad in her panties and her hair. She picked up another piece of wash and sloshed it around in the tub. Now her panties were almost transparent, allowing the audience only a partially screened view of her blond bush. “Oh, my,” she said, standing again and looking at her panties. The audience roared and screamed, then silenced as she looked at them. They could see that this was more than just a strip show. She was letting them peek at an embarrassed girl, making them delighted voyeurs.
She slowly slid the panties down her legs, bending so those in the audience couldn’t see her crotch. She remained crouched and looked at the faces of the crowd. Then she looked at Matt, who was quite obviously rubbing the bulge in the front of his trousers. She could feel an answering tingle in her pussy. “Oh, my, “ she said again, then stood up, allowing the people to see her nude body. “Oh, my,” she said again as she looked around. The audience was strangely silent, as if not wanting to disturb the sweet young girl and her laundry. Although several couples were making love and one woman knelt with her partner’s cock in her mouth, all eyes were on the show. Wow, Marianne thought. This is great. I can turn people on. I love this and it makes me so hot.
Giving the audience a good view of her bush, she once more sat down and dropped the another piece of laundry into the water. Water flew everywhere until she was dripping. She stood up and rubbed her body to remove the water. Then she rubbed her crotch as if to remove the last of the water. “Oh, my,” she said, rubbing her flesh. “Oh, my.”
As she had planned, water had splashed on several people in the front of the audience, including her husband. As faces peered up at her, she walked to the edge of the stage, then slowly made her way down to the level of the tables, a small towel from the laundry basket dangling from one hand.
Several large men stood around the periphery of the room watching to see that everyone followed the club’s rules. A performer could do anything to anyone in the audience. Those watching could do nothing to or with a performer without being invited.
She and Matt had discussed things that might happen and they had agreed that Marianne could do anything the mood compelled her to. Matt would enjoy watching her antics. He knew that she loved to play and that she would end the evening with him. He also knew that she loved him totally. That was enough reassurance for him. She could play to her heart’s content.
She made her way to Matt and sat on his lap. “Oh, my,” she said, wiping water from the front of his shirt. Then she wiped the front of his slacks, pressing all the places she knew would delight him. Under her breath, she asked, “Still all right with this?”
“Oh, yes, baby. Have fun.”
Marianne stood up and moved to another man, who stared at her in rapt attention. “Oh, my,” she repeated, wiping the man’s face and shirt. As she rubbed his pants, she felt his hard cock. Slowly she crouched between his spread knees and unzipped his fly. With little urging, his cock sprung forth. “Oh, my,” she said, clear appreciation in her voice. She curled her fingers around his large erection and rubbed, watching small drops of fluid ooze from the tip. “Mmmm,” she purred, and she continued to caress his staff.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he groaned.
“I certainly do,” she said as semen erupted into her hand. “Oh, my.” Minutes later, she wiped her hand and moved away. Two women were stretched out on a double lounge chair at one side of the room. As Marianne watched, they rubbed breast to breast, their hands working in each ot
her’s pussy. She walked over and tweaked two nipples, then inserted fingers of both hands into two wet pussies.
For several more minutes she wandered around the room, touching, rubbing, caressing, then she walked back up on the stage. She splashed water onto her face and allowed some to dribble onto her breasts. Her right hand rubbed her clit while her left palm slid over her nipples. She sat on the stool, her legs spread, her head back, so everyone could watch her stroke herself. And she did, she watched Matt out of the corner of her eye. He was really excited, she realized, and so was she. It had stopped being just a show. If she rubbed in just the right place…She stroked and caressed and then inserted two fingers into her pussy. Men and women were watching while sucking and fucking each other and Matt had his naked cock in his hand. All eyes were on her.
She moaned. “Oh, God,” she yelled. “Oh, now.”
As she came, a small part of her still watched Matt and the others, all approaching or just past orgasm. “Yes,” she groaned as she climaxed, her juice running down her fingers. She sat for long moments as the audience remained almost completely silent. Then it erupted in applause and calls of “Way to go, baby” and “Lemme have some.” Several husky men surrounded the stage to prevent anyone from getting too close.
Slowly the lights dimmed and Marianne left the stage, her breath slowly returning to normal, her knees still weak. Matt found her in the dressing room, tossed her onto the floor and drove his cock into her, unable to stop until he erupted inside her slippery pussy.
“Oh, my, baby,” he said later, as he lay beside her. “Oh, my.”
Barbara lay on her bed as the music filled the room. She had just climaxed for the third time during the story, glad she had learned to masturbate for lengthy pleasure and multiple orgasms, not just to scratch her itch. She thought back on what had excited her the most about the story. Performing? Giving a stranger a hand job? No. What had driven her quickly over the edge was the picture that formed in her mind of the two women.
Flesh For Fantasy Page 17
