The Birthday Gift

by Jojo Brown

  THE BIRTHDAY GIFT

  BY

  JO JO BROWN

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Fantasy Games—The Birthday Gift

  Copyright ã 2007 Jojo Brown

  Coverart by Carol MacLeod

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books 2006

  Look for us online at

  www.extasybooks.com

  “To all the birthday boys, and girls, out there who are brave enough to dream…”

  One

  Forty-six-year old Grant didn’t know what he could have been thinking. Standing before the hidden entrance to the establishment, he felt the tremors shake him as if a large truck passed over a rickety old bridge on which he stood. Was he really going to go through with this?

  When he received the coupon for a free session at The House of Peril, he had been intrigued, if somewhat shocked and embarrassed. After being married to the same women for nearly thirty years, he was the first to admit that he’d fallen into a bit of a rut, as far as sex went—but was this really something he wanted to do? He’d heard about these torture chambers. Locker room talk at the racquetball club had filled him in pretty quickly on what went on in these kinds of places.

  He really should have just torn the coupon up as soon as it slid out of the birthday card onto his desk, but something about the possibilities that it offered held him in their grip. Plus the idea of being tied up and totally at the mercy of a woman’s whims had always turned him on. The skin on the cheeks of his ass prickled just at the thought of the kiss of a whip, and his cock sprang to life within the loose security of his pants.

  His mind raced back in time to the numerous occasions at the beginning of their marriage, when he had tried to broach the subject of bondage with his wife. Visualizing her sweet, pale breasts spilling from the top of a tight leather corset, cinching her already trim waist to unbelievably miniscule measurements, had him stroking his stiff cock through the bottom of his pocket. If any of the women behind this red door came anywhere close to that mental image, he would not last more than a minute, before shooting his load.

  Unable to deny his own curiosity and sexual need any longer, Grant turned the knob and walked into the dim interior of The House of Peril. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. The walls were painted a grotesque red, making him think immediately of blood. Wall sconces, of black wrought iron, held flickering electric candles. Every stick of furniture, from the lone leather sofa to the end table and reception desk, was black. Even the filmy swaths of soft netting, pulled from the centre of the dark ceiling to cascade down the wall behind the desk, had the colour black.

  That filmy curtain drew Grant’s eyes, as it parted and a striking female form eased through. Her alabaster skin stood out in stark contrast to all the darkness. Her hair hung in a soft raven-coloured, living curtain about her bare shoulders. The bodice of her strapless corset pushed her ample breasts unnaturally high on her chest. The sight of those tightly secured mounds sent a fresh wave of intense need through Grant’s cock.

  The thick coal liner on her lids served to hide and accentuate her pale blue eyes at the same time. The ruby redness of her full lips matched the long nails of the hand that reached out to him in greeting.

  “Welcome to my home. I am Lady Peril.”

  She didn’t really speak; it sounded like more of a breath, formed into words, with their effect immediate. Grant could feel his balls constricting. He knew that he drew perilously close to explosion, and he hadn’t even got past the reception desk yet.

  In that same breathy tone, Lady Peril continued. “Your arrival has been anticipated, Mr. Umbridge. Your Mistress awaits you, as we speak. There are some conventions to which we must hold you, when you enter this house. You will not speak, unless instructed to do so. You shall follow all instructions you are given, to the best of your physical abilities. You shall address your mistress as Mistress, at all times. Lastly, you will remember that this is not a brothel. We are not selling sex here; we are selling the art of bondage. Therefore you will not indulge in sexual contact with your mistress. If your seed needs to be spilt, it will do so without her body as its vessel. Are these rules understood?”

  Grant just stood there, dumbfounded. He felt so close to cumming already, how was he supposed to keep from ‘spilling his seed’?

  “You may speak freely here, Mr. Umbridge. You are not within the realm of your Mistress, yet. Have you understood the rules that I have laid out for you?”

  “Yes, I understand them. It’s just that I…”

  Understanding his predicament, without him having to trip over his own tongue trying to explain his situation, Lady Peril pointed to a door to his left. “There are facilities for you to use, privately, before you enter the realm.”

  A quick, Thank you Lady Peril, and he raced through the offered door. He barely had time to pull his pants and boxers down and grab a wad of tissue, before he expelled the pent up violent spurts of sperm. Without realizing that he did it, Grant had been stroking the length of his extremely rigid cock through the thin barrier of his pocket, since before he had entered the house. As soon as his warm hand closed around the thick hardness, two or three strokes of his closed fist had been all it took.

  Leaning on the edge of the sink, Grant struggled to get his breathing and raging libido back under some sort of control. He could still leave; it wasn’t too late. He could simply walk out of this little washroom and head for the door. No big deal.

  Pulling the door open, he stepped once again into the dimness of the reception area. As much as his head told his feet to head for the exit, they turned the opposite way, of their own free will.

  “Just go through the door on your right and all the way to the end of the hall. Enjoy your visit.” Lady Peril breathed, as she ducked back behind the filmy curtain.

  Two

  The hall was lined with closed doors. Through the thickness of a few of them he could hear the telltale moans of pleasure as well as the heart-stopping crack of a whip. Before he had reached the door at the end, his cock became hard again. Was there no stopping it today? He had never been able to get it up this fast after, before in his life.

  Coming to the door in question, Grant hesitated, unsure as to whether he should knock or just walk in. Erring on the side of caution, he lifted his fist and rapped three times.

  “Enter.”

  The muffled instruction was only just audible through the door, yet his heart and cock jumped at the sound of it.

  The room was set up like a dungeon in a medieval castle. Chains hung from the ceiling beams. Something that looked surprisingly like a rack to stretch prisoners on, commanded the centre of the room. A large wheel with leather straps attached stood in one corner. In the opposite corner there was a board with holes spaced perfectly for a face, two hands, two feet and a cock to fit into.

  The thing that caught his immediate attention was the assortment of utensils hanging on the wall. Whips, cat-o-nine-tails, strap
s, huge looking dildos and vibrators. On a table underneath these stood an array of clamps, hoses and very dangerous-looking needles.

  Beside the table stood his Mistress. Deliciously clad in black leather, she stood before him. From the toe of her thigh-high stiletto boots, Grant’s eyes traced up her, hungrily. The black leather teddy was like a second skin. It left nothing to the imagination; it hugged and squeezed every voluptuous line of her. Her breasts were squeezed up and together, forming the most glorious looking double pillow just beneath her collarbones. Her arms were covered with long black satin gloves that stopped only just before reaching her underarms. Her dark hair cascaded through a hole in the back of the full mask covering her entire head. All that showed of her face were her deep brown eyes and luscious red lips.

  Certain that she had purposely stood as still as a statue for him to be able to have a good look, he jumped when she did finally move. Reaching to the wall, she drew down a riding crop and slapped it against her thigh. “Disrobe.”

  Thirty seconds, perhaps even less, was all the time it took him to shed every piece of his business suit and boxers. Standing before her, completely naked, he suddenly felt a prickling of shame. His hands closed in front of him, covering the extremely hard ten inches as best as he could.

  “Did I tell you to shield yourself? Put your hands at your sides.”

  With more difficulty than he would have imagined, Grant slowly spread his hands and pressed the sweaty palms to his outer thighs. He desperately wanted to speak. He wanted to tell the dominatrix that he was sorely inexperienced and hoped that she would go easy on him. The urge to just go with the flow and let her do whatever she pleased, overrode any other thought.

  “On your knees.”

  Looking down, he saw the cold cement under his feet and feared for the health of his knees. A quick glance back to Mistress though and he fell down as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. She rubbed the handle of the crop between her legs. The soft leather had worked its way between the lips of her pussy and he could see the swollen outer edges peeking from the confinement of the garment.

  God, he felt so hard.

  Her heels clicked sharply on the unforgiving surface of the floor as she approached him. Walking slowly around him, she trailed the tip of the crop over his chest, shoulders and back. Coming to stand in front of him again, she used it to raise his chin. “You may speak to answer my questions. Have you been a bad boy? Have you had explicit thoughts today?”

  “Yes.”

  The speed with which she bent over him and loosed the sting of the crop on his bare ass astounded him. “Yes what?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” he gasped.

  “Mmm,” she purred, moving to crouch close in behind him. “Much better.”

  He felt the crop’s tip slip between the cheeks of his ass and up along his spine. Then, a pressure against his back. She pressed into him, her mouth so close to his heated flesh, he felt her breath when she spoke. “Did you spill you seed, alone, before you entered my chamber?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He had learned his lesson about how to answer her, very well.

  “Why?” Her lips actually touched his shoulder, like a feather.

  “I was so anxious to meet with you, I couldn’t stop myself, Mistress.”

  “Good answer.” With a speed that once again astounded him, she was on her feet and in front of him again. “Stand up. Don’t sit there in the dirt, like some grovelling dog.”

  Slightly less agilely than her, he got to his feet and waited with anticipation for her next order.

  “Do you like my playroom?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Would you like to try out some of my toys?”

  A lot of her ‘toys’ scared the shit out of him, but he definitely couldn’t turn back now. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I think you will enjoy this one. Come over here and step up.”

  She stood beside that board with the holes. Actually, she wasn’t really standing beside it; she rubbed herself against it, stroking it with one gloved hand as though it were a long lost lover. The sight of her apparent sexual excitement had his cock jumping again.

  Stepping up on to the platform at the base of the vertical rack, he froze as her black satin fingers closed around the rigid shaft. At first he thought—hoped—she would say to hell with the rules and jerk him off.

  No such luck.

  She simply guided the head of his cock to the waiting hole. He stepped forward, slipping his feet through the appropriate openings as she disappeared behind the board. Her hand again closed on him. She lifted, pulled and manoeuvred his full shaft and balls through the hole. If he were to pull back too quickly or at the wrong angle he could suffer some irreparable damage.

  God, he hoped she knew what she did. Was there some kind of training course for this profession?

  With no other obvious choice, he continued making himself one with the board. As his arms threaded through the openings, she guided them to two posts level with the holes. Grasping them he pulled tighter onto the board and instantly felt a bit more comfortable that his package wouldn’t be ripped off.

  Without a word, she slipped a thong around each wrist and secured him to the posts. So much for the possibility of accidentally letting go. Two matching thongs were threaded through smaller holes that he had failed to notice, beside his feet. His ankles were as securely fastened as his wrists. He was well and truly at her mercy—the prayer that she had some, was silent.

  Suddenly she stood in front of him, with one thigh just barely on either side of his exposed cock. “Your safety word is sandstone. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Good. Then let’s begin.”

  With a slight bend of her knees, she pressed the leather encasing her pussy down the length of his cock, before moving away again.

  Three

  The whispers of the whip caressed his back and ass as she obviously swung it in a back and forth figure eight. She traced the tool that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, down the backs of his legs. He could feel his ass heating up and knew that it must be red by now, when he gasped at the first true sting of the whip.

  Instantly he felt the return of the softly swishing of the figure eight. Amazingly his cock had not softened at the feel of the stinging leather. In fact, if anything it felt harder and larger than it ever had. The next ten minutes were filled with snaps of the leather against his flaming skin and soft swishes.

  The feel of the sudden cold wetness, shocked him. As she slipped the quickly melting ice cubes over his heated flesh he found himself wishing for the return of the whip’s kiss.

  Her face appearing in front of him startled him so much he gasped as loudly as he had when the whip bit in to his ass. She looked down at his cock, rather than into his eyes. “It seems that I was right to assume that you would enjoy this toy. I do hope the hole will be big enough to ease you out of. I am by no means done with you and it would be such a loss to damage you so early in the game.”

  She disappeared again, but not around the edge of the board this time. Instead she lowered until she was out of sight in his restrained position. The feel of her warm lips and moist tongue on his engorged cock amazed him. The way she swirled the tip of her tongue all around the ridge of the head, sent sparks of electricity through him.

  His fingers fought, ineffectually, against the restraints in his need to press her mouth onto him. He couldn’t even thrust his hips forward; he was already as tight against the board as possible. He just had to stand there and feel the feather-like flutter of her tongue.

  So much for the rule of no sexual contact! On the other hand, Lady Peril had said nothing about what his Mistress was allowed to do, only that he was not allowed to touch her in a sexual manner. God, her mouth felt wonderful.

  Too soon his cock stood throbbing in the air on the other side of the board. He could feel the coolness of the air where she had left the moisture of her mouth on him. He felt the
pressure of the thongs about his ankles ease, just before he saw her working to loose the ones at his wrists. He gripped the posts again, afraid to allow himself to lean back. Her command, “Don’t move,” was hardly necessary.

  Her fingers closed around his cock again. She lifted and pulled just as she had when fitting him in to the hole. The difference now was that she forced his heavy balls back out of the hole. Only the slightest twinge of pain shot through him, as the first one broke free. Clearly his cock seemed much larger now than it had been when it first went through that hole.

  Once free, he looked down in amazement. He hadn’t been that big since his teenage years. He very nearly wanted to take a picture of it, just to immortalize this unforgettable achievement.

  His view of the magnificent erection standing out from his less than hard body was blocked by his mistress’s gloved hand. She used it as a living handle and guided him over to the table, which had made him think of a stretch-rack.

  “Climb up and lay down on you back.”

  Without a word Grant crawled on to the hard surface. Once he was in position he glanced down again and smiled proudly. His cock stood straight up, pointing to the ceiling. It felt wonderful to know that he still had it in him.

  Within minutes he became once again bound. His wrists and ankles were tethered to the corners of the table with strong leather straps. Mistress stood above his head and carefully tied a blindfold into place.

  Grant’s senses went into overdrive. Unable to see what came at him put a strange new twist on the whole situation. The sight of all those clamps and needles on the table came unbidden to his mind.

  “Do you remember your safety word?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Grant had to swallow before answering to moisten his suddenly dry throat.