The steady hum of the van's engine is the only counterpoint to the silence that surrounds me. At first, I try counting the corners, trying to figure out where we are going. But between the ends of my blindfold tickling my naked back and the feeling of the air moving languidly against me, I quickly lose all sense of direction. This has gone far beyond the little experiment we talked about, far beyond my expectations. Even so, I am not truly frightened. I realize for the first time that I would trust this person with my life.
"I promised you a story."
The voice is low and husky, somehow filling the air around me. There is something in it that speaks blatantly of both sex and power. I feel my breath catch in anticipation, waiting for it to continue.
"I've been watching you for weeks. You never relax, never let yourself go. It’s something you need to learn, and I'm going to see that you do. Taking away your ability to control the situation is only the first step. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be begging me to give you what you need."
There is a pause, and I hear a soda bottle being opened before the voice continues.
"Tonight you go where you've never been; to the edge of pleasure time and again without release. You may think to resist, but make no mistake--you will writhe under my touch, begging me for more. Finally, if your pleas are desperate enough, if they please me enough, I might give you what you want."
It’s amazing how powerful words can be. I find myself growing wet at the thought of what is to come. I don't know if it can be done. Nobody has ever made me lose control that way. To drive me to the point of begging? It is a thought that is totally foreign to me, and yet it arouses me like no other.
The van slows, finally coming to a halt. When I am helped out, I feel the unmistakable texture of sand under my feet. We're still outside! God, somebody really is going to see me trussed up and helpless like this. I'm led along the sand for a short distance and I feel the beginnings of panic. We could be in serious trouble here. I clear my throat to speak, when we stop again. I hear the sound of a key rattling in a lock and then the slight creak of a door opening.
I'm guided into a room and left standing. The floor feels like old wood, smooth and warm under my feet. There isn't a sound except for my own breathing for a moment. Then I feel hot breath on my neck. Soft kisses are planted along my neck and down my shoulder. Hands reach around to my breasts and tweak the nipples, sending a twinge of fire straight to my core. One hand begins a torturously slow descent along my stomach, while the other stays where it is, alternately stroking and kneading.
There is a quivering weakness in my knees as I feel probing fingers reach the juncture of my thighs and poise there a moment. Unconsciously, I spread my legs a little to allow easier access. I am not disappointed. Fingers slip between my curls, teasing me, testing the wetness that lingers there. Being held from behind like this adds to the feeling of helplessness. There is no escape from the teasing hands--pulling back only presses me more firmly against the unyielding body behind me.
Need sizzles through me, searing along my nerves. I don't know if I've ever felt this wanton craving before. Blinded as I am, every sensation seems magnified ten-fold. My breath is coming in short gasps and my heart feels like it’s going to pound its way through my ribcage. A single finger slides inside me, probing softly. I'm already so close to the edge, I nearly scream in frustration when it pulls out again. The hand at my breast gives me a sharp pinch, then it too is gone.
"Not just yet. I'm not even close to done with you yet." The voice is husky, thick with its own arousal. "I think I need to cool you off a little."
There is a hint of promise in the voice that makes me shiver as I'm turned around and walked slowly backwards until I feel something soft pressing against my knees. A bed maybe? The cuffs on my wrists are undone and I am pushed firmly backwards onto a smooth, yielding surface. Most definitely a bed.
The sheets are satin, cool and slick against my super-heated skin. It feels incredible on my back as I am forced slowly up the bed. I can feel the heat radiating from the body above me as a leather-clad knee is planted firmly between my thighs, pressing tightly against the hot wetness there. I can feel the muscles flex against my willing flesh as my hands are dragged firmly above my head and anchored to a cold metal bar, forcing my breasts into prominence despite my position. Despite my firm intentions otherwise, my traitorous body grinds against that smooth leather, desperately seeking a greater degree of sensation.
For the barest instant, I feel the brush of moist lips against mine. One feather light touch then they're gone. "Don't go away, I'll be right back." I nearly curse aloud as I find myself alone again. I hear the door opening and then nothing. Damn. This is beyond frustrating. Tentatively I tug against my bonds, testing their strength. There is no release to be found that way, the metal of the bar is unyielding. There is nothing I can do but wait.
Struggling to calm my breathing, I become aware of movement in the air around me. I’m sure the door is still standing open. A warm breeze drifts over me, licking gently at my bare skin. I can smell the barest hint of salt, the slight tang of the sea. All the tiny hairs along my body lift, standing at attention, and it feels as if the very air is charged with electricity. If this is supposed to be cooling me off, it really isn’t working.
...Breaking Tension...
(c) M.C. Sak 2002