Follow Your Fantasy

by Nicola Jane

  A groan as the dice tumble to a stop. He shakes you off his leg, keen to distance himself now you're no longer lucky. It's probably best to leave the table altogether in case the other players think you're jinxed. You're so twitchy and turned on that you approach the roulette table aiming deliberately for a space where there are two men without girls near them. You're out of ice you realise as you get there but take up position between two men anyway. Not all the girls are serving drinks after all, some are merely standing around. Accidentally on purpose you brush the sleeve of the player to your right with your leg so he is alerted to your presence and he responds automatically by placing his hand around your upper thigh. You move your feet wider apart hoping he'll go further but he doesn't.

  Instead he moves a pile of chips towards you. 'Place your bets,' says the croupier, another black wigged girl, as she spins the wheel. You take the chips and lean over to lay them on the further away numbers. You're bent across the table, completely open to the man behind you. You stretch out allowing him a full view of your ass, the pink skin between the cheeks leading down to the glistening wetness below. You shudder as his fingers skim the drier, tighter place on their journey downwards.

  'No more bets.' You scatter the rest of the chips and straighten up. He keeps moving down between your legs and slides under your buttocks to rest at the apex of your inner thighs. He shifts in his seat and pulls you down to sit on his lap.

  All eyes are on the wheel. The ball rattles around as it dips in and out of the slots, your pussy tightens around his thumb. The ball skips the House 0, glances up one last time and finishes on Black 35.

  The winning chips are stacked up, his among them. You fling chips on numbers within easy reach and the ball spins around the wheel again, roaming up, down and over the ridges. His thumb pushes into your ass.

  'No more bets please.' No more bets, the gamblers await the outcome, decided from the outset and breathlessly anticipated. The wheel slows and the ball skitters in search of the lucky number. His fingers skate over a spot just inside your pussy. Your ass clenches as his thumb pushes up against the resistance and the heat between the two places connects into one sensation. Red 16. You're full with the thumb as it rubs but your pussy is so wet you can't feel him moving inside you anymore and you hover on the edge. There's no way you can win. Not like this.

  Your mind goes back to what the escort said. That this job didn't include sex – unless you wanted it to. You took it precisely because there wouldn't be sex and now all you want is for this man you've hardly looked at to lean you over the roulette table and fuck you. You look around you and what had seemed so debauched half an hour ago now seems too tame.

  Girls are being stroked and touched, moaning softly amid the chatter of the players. They bend and show off curved white skin and rosy nipples but no one is having sex or relieving the sexual tension. The hardness of your player nudges your thigh but he hasn't made any move for you to do to him what he's so exquisitely doing to you. Surely the men in here don't have that amount of self control all night.

  Suddenly he withdraws his hand, pockets his chips and supports you as he stands and tips you off his lap. Your legs barely cope with your weight. He leans in and speaks in a low voice. 'You're ready for the high stakes room.'

  Then he walks off, aiming for a corner of the room. The curtains are drawn apart by two girls and immediately fall together again behind him. You know it isn't the door you came in by and as you watch the curtains, wondering if he'll come back for you, you see another man and two girls come out. One of the girls is checking her wig to make sure it's in place and the man's shirt is not done up evenly. He glances back once, expecting you to follow him. You can go after him and try your luck in a less random game. Otherwise you can stay here and see if things get more out of hand as the evening continues.

  Or...

  You can’t take any more teasing so you follow him obediently...

  It’s tempting, but things are hotting up out here so you decide to stay and check it out...

  Maybe this isn’t quite what you were expecting, so you retrace your steps...

  The Abduction

  You've reread the instructions several times and accepted the rules, sure you've committed every important detail to memory. Even so, you know little of what to expect other than where to be, at what time and what you should be wearing. The unknown aspect of it heightens your nervous anticipation, but after last time you know it'll be easy to play the role expected of you.

  So, in a tight black skirt cut just above the knee, high heels and a fitted pink T-shirt you exit the lift at the top storey. Other than your car, only two other spaces are filled and normally you'd never park where it was so lonely. Your heels tap a creepy echo around the empty concrete car park and you shiver with a combination of anticipation and apprehension. You think back to how overpoweringly sexy being overpowered was. It was as if you had no choice but to enjoy being forced up against the car and roughly taken. You wonder what he's got in store for tonight.

  You walk towards your car, calculating how many more steps it would take to reach safety. The squeal of tires as a car races up the ramp from the level below is deafeningly loud and you jump despite yourself. If this was real you'd run for it now but you go over the instructions again in your head. Wait until a car–

  The car parks three or four spaces in front of yours and about five spaces from where you are now. The engine is still running and no one appears from it. You have no choice but to pass it to get to yours. Ears cocked for the sound of someone coming or the car door opening, you keep walking.

  Click. The door on the driver's side, facing away from you, opens but you can't hear if anyone gets out or not. You reach the end of the car and speed up, head down, rat-a-tat-tat on the concrete, groping in your bag for your car keys trying to look nervy and vulnerable.

  Suddenly, you're grabbed from behind and something is pulled over your head, completely blinding you. Instinctively you tussle with it but don't scream as the sound would carry too far and could alert someone's attention. A cord at the base of the bag tightens around your neck and hands grip your own to fight your attempts to loosen it. Something cold and hard pokes against your back and you're dragged backwards away from your own car. There's a clank of doors opening and you're shoved hard enough to lose your balance so that you sprawl inside. As you right yourself a snap of metal around your wrist secures one hand to a metal pole inside the car and you're trapped as the doors slam closed.

  As the car moves off you ease yourself into a sitting position on the ridged metal floor. Your head bangs against the side as you try to make yourself as comfortable as you can with one arm elevated. You briefly wonder how he can be so sure there's no CCTV camera to alert the police. You know this is part of the illicit thrill for him but for you the fun will start when his strong body pins you down and his huge hands roam wherever they like, your restraints meaning there's no way to escape the pleasure he's threatened to inflict on you.

  'Let me go,' you demand.

  Silence.

  'Where are you taking me? Stop the car! Let me out.' You pull against the handcuffs, rattling them against the metal.

  'Who are you? Why are you doing this?' Your voice goes up a pitch on each question and you keep on, putting more hysteria into your performance as the silence continues. You give up and feign sobbing. 'Please, let me go. Please.'

  From the motion of the car you can tell you've left the car park and from here you don't have any idea where he's taking you. Doubts steal in…What if this time the guy isn't just play acting? What if he pretended last time so you'd be fooled into coming along a second time? Then you remember the gentlemanly, hesitant way he behaved after your first encounter. If he had wanted to kill you he could have done it then. You tell yourself you're over-reacting and who can blame you? This is very realistic.

  The car comes to a stop, the engine stills, a seatbelt whirs back into its bracket and the door opens. The journey can only
have been five minutes maximum. One thing he never told you was where the scenario would be played out. You've a few moments to prepare and your body tenses, ready to act in self defence. The rear doors swing out and a hand grabs your ankle. You lash out with the other leg, catching him full on with the heel of your shoe.

  'Ooof,' he grunts, and speaks for the first time tonight, sounding not at all threatening. 'I forgot what a little fighter you are. It's great, but don't kill me OK?'

  You take it down a notch or two with a slow deep breath. It's easy to get carried away. Your adrenalin levels simmer at a more normal level. Normal for this situation at least, which means somewhat turned on. You flail your legs, trying to aim softer this time, aware that he can see up your skirt and how sexy that must look.

  'Where are we? Please don't hurt me,' you resume begging. You wait for his hands to start travelling up your legs, assuming the car is to be the venue for the rest of his fantasy as you're still handcuffed. But he leans past your thrashing legs and unlocks the cuff from the pole. With relative ease he throws you over the ledge of his shoulder. Your head hangs against his rib-cage and you squirm and beat against the wall of his back with your fists like a mosquito having a tantrum. Even if you were genuinely trying to escape you wouldn't have achieved much. Your groin presses against his hard shoulder muscles and you wriggle as much for your benefit as his. The backs of your upper thighs tingle in response to the stroking grip of his leather clad fingers.

  You have no idea where you are but his steps echo in what sounds like a large empty space. He pushes a set of doors open, mounts a flight of cold stairs, pushes against a bar and enters some sort of building. Here carpet muffles his footsteps and he uses a key to open another door before placing you back on your feet, cuffing both hands together above your head and securing them to a dangling chain.

  You whimper and beg again and he lifts the hood so your lower face is exposed. The fresh air feels as welcome as if you'd been bound up for days.

  'Now shut up. No one knows you're here. Do you want to live?'

  You nod frantically, adrenalin levels surging. Your heart is hammering inside your chest and your legs tremble as you keep your balance on your tip toes. You arch your back, pushing your breasts out and your butt back

  'Then keep quiet and do as I say and if you're a good girl, you'll get everything you deserve. If you're a bad girl, you'll get everything you deserve and more.'

  He takes your feet and cuffs each one to something either side of you so your skirt stretches taut above your knees. The cold metal of a knife runs down your cheek and all your senses flip onto alert. It's no safety blade either because it continues on its downward journey and rips through the fabric of your T-shirt like tissue then slices up with a zipping sound from the hem of your skirt to your crotch. He puts the knife aside and wrenches the rest of the material apart with bare hands, leaving you standing in your bra, panties and the tatters of the T-shirt.

  His hands roam over your bare stomach, between your legs and down your thighs. Powerless to fight him off, you arch away from his touch, but his hands only reappear somewhere else. Being unable to see makes your skin extra sensitive and a trail of heat builds up from where his hands have passed to where your body wants to be touched. A pressure at your breastbone and your bra pings open with a quick upward tug of the blade. He pinches one nipple and it instantly hardens, sending a shot of electricity to your pussy which pulses with the excitement and barely controlled danger.

  What's he going to do to you? You're torn between instincts that tell you to fight back, the knowledge that there's little you can do anyway and the fact that you're so turned on because you have to submit. You have the freedom to let anything happen to you, things maybe you'd normally say no to.

  He lifts the elastic of your panties away from your hip and turns the blade so it gives way on the sharp edge. With no more resistance than a cobweb, your last defence flutters down your thighs to the floor. He steps back and then returns with something hard and cool which he rolls up your legs. It's smooth and rounded and about two hand spans in length. He rolls upwards, letting you feel its substantial weight and leather texture, past your unguarded entrance and over your stomach to your breasts. He tweaks your nipples again with his fingers and touches the implement to your lips. You open your mouth and tongue it, licking and exploring its surface. He slides it slowly into your mouth and you suck it obligingly.

  'Playing the good girl?' he whispers into your ear and you moan in agreement, your mouth is filled.

  He removes it in one smooth motion and places the tip of it against your other lips. Your legs are spread wide and you can't help yourself rubbing up against it, straddling the length and sliding along it. You throb and open up even more, grinding hard and sighing. Your whole body is shaking and your eyes are open but unseeing under the hood. The helplessness wets your lips and you crave the filling of the void between your legs. He teases you, tickling your clit, brushing your thighs.

  'How good are you?' he asks.

  'I'm being as good as I can,' you say, shuddering as he punctuates your words with pressure on the little nub of your clit.

  'Do you deserve everything I'm going to do to you?'

  'Yes!' You're whimpering now, breathing hard and unable to do more than answer in isolated words.

  The tool parts your lips and hovers tantalising at the entrance. Then he pushes up inside penetrating just a few maddening centimetres while the hand clutching it bumps against you. Your handcuffed powerlessness forces you to submit but it slips in and out of you easily in the welcoming embrace of your sex. He breathes heavily, hot and damp on your stomach. He withdraws the implement, pulling it upwards so that it parts your lips and briefly finds the nub of your clit again amongst the folds of slippery flesh.

  Then he surprises you by leaning up and over you to free the chain above, suddenly allowing you to drop your arms. They flop to your sides, tingling as the blood flows again. Your hands remain cuffed together and a short length of chain dangles between them. Your senses are all over the place as his hands then bend you forward at the waist and your stomach comes to rest across a wooden beam and he fastens your hands again so it's as if your upper body is floating in the air. Your legs are still planted wide apart but now your ass points up, revealing all its secrets, and your breasts hang free over the bar.

  You wait, adjusting yourself to the feeling of this new, even more helpless position. Your breasts are heavy and the blood flows to the tips, engorging the nipples. Your hips move in a rhythm of anticipation but what you feel next causes you to cry out in shock. There's a soft crack, a whisper and then a feathery lash catches against your buttocks. He lets the multiple leather strands sit on your skin for a few seconds, enough for you to understand that it's some kind of whip. You tighten in fear again. How much pain will there be? How much can you take?

  He lifts the whip and brings it back down again, each strand falling like little nips on your thighs. It stings but softly, deliciously and he moves up and down your legs and buttocks, flicking every nerve ending into total submission.

  'Beg for mercy,' he growls.

  Mercy from what? You don't want this to ever stop.

  'Please,' you moan. As the words leave your mouth he changes angle and now you know what mercy you need. He whips upward between your stretched apart legs and the tails catch at your swollen pussy and clit. Each stroke falls in a slightly different place, inciting desire like a crowd ready to riot but where no one party can give the rallying cry. You twist and turn under each caress of the whip and yearn for something crueller.

  He moves in front of you and applies the whip to your breasts where its soft bites fall on their dangling weight. It's not enough and that is just too much for you. Without thinking you beg, the words tumbling out between half sobs. 'Please, harder. Harder!'

  In moments, the gentle whip is replaced by a thicker rubbery strap which licks and slaps at your breasts. Where the last tool was like feather ligh
t kisses, this is like nips from spiteful teeth. He rains slaps across your breasts, sometimes catching the nipples and amplifying their swollen soreness.

  'Do you want more of this?' he asks. 'Have you been bad enough for more punishment?'

  'Yes!'

  He suddenly leans in and bites you on the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder and pinches your nipples hard. Then he stands back and brings the strap down onto your ass. It snaps in the air and slaps against your skin, again and again. You strain and push back, exposing as much flesh as you can to its stinging reach. Your clit stands out, raising its head for attention from the strap which finally obliges with short licks from below. It's beautifully precise and your whole body connects to your clit as the strap smacks across it.

  You don't need to be told to beg. 'Please.' You're stuck, your body floating in mid air over the beam and your sex floating between pleasure and surrender.

  Then he's behind you, stretching your cheeks apart and a moan catches in your throat as he runs his tongue between the cleft of your buttocks, dipping into the tight hole and pressing its way inside. With one hand he flicks your clit with his thumb and forefinger and then he has the leather tool from earlier in and presses it against your anus. He invades the place where his tongue was with its smooth hardness. He pauses for a split second for your muscles to relax in acceptance and then he gently moves it in and out. It's more than acceptance, your hips begin to push back against him searching. He slides it in and out, increasing his rough handling of your clit. He withdraws the tool as your body begins to shake uncontrollably. Somehow his cock is free and demands an entrance to your pussy and he slams into you with such force that your bunched up muscles spasm into an orgasm that hits with ferocious speed. Its violent spasms are sucked deep inside your trapped body. You cry out so loudly his groans are lost and he comes much less spectacularly and collapses across your back.