Darkest Fantasies (14 page)

Yet although
her hands were working and flexing, still she did not give him the
finger.

He moved
close, held her against his nakedness, and felt the tip of his
prick touch the warmth of her vagina. He groaned with the flooding
sensation that accompanied it, and pressed his face to her heaving
breasts. 'Had enough, Louise?' he grunted. 'You want me to go
away?'

A stifled
groan came from behind the black mask and she shuddered, trying
unsuccessfully to mount him in spite of her bonds. He held her
still with his hands around her ribcage, and bent slightly to suck
at one sore teat, his tongue rasping over the ridges and circling
the lump of flesh around and around. Then he took a deep breath,
sucked as much of the delightful mammary into his mouth as hard as
he could, milking it with his lips until he was gasping for breath,
and then released it with a plop.

This action
satisfactory, he repeated it on the other breast, sensing her grow
more and more tense as the pressure built up in his mouth, enjoying
the way her whole body echoed the explosive release of tension.

Moving behind
her, Kevin then began to rub up and down, knowing he was nearly
ready. He knew what he wanted. He stuffed his finger up inside her
where the juices flowed, hot and strong, then using her own
lubricant he inserted his finger into her anus. She jolted with
shock, tightened around his finger with incredible force. But he
sensed that was what she wanted. He repeated the action several
times until his finger glided in and out easily, then lifted her up
and back until her arse was almost sitting on him.

Now his cock
was proudly rampant, hard as a rock, and if he had been looking he
would have seen his balls as fiery red suns, separated by the
string that was constricting them. All he knew was that it felt
wonderful - second to nothing at all. With his hands around her
thighs he held her there and gradually let her weight drop onto his
prick. Her arse felt the heat of him, and pulsed as her own body
weight gradually, inexorably, sank her down onto that ready shaft,
her spread legs allowing him total access.

When she was
fully impaled he began to move, just slightly. He pulled her body
back into his and rubbed her breasts, her thighs, letting her hang
there, her ring pulsing against the fullness of him. He groaned and
bit into her shoulder, and he heard her gasping with flooding
sensations over which she had no control. Very, very gently, he
began to masturbate her.

She shuddered
with uncontrollable urges as he rubbed faster and faster, until
eventually he felt the tiny fluctuation that was the onset of her
orgasm. He held his finger still, feeling the heat radiate through
her from the core of her body.

Surprised at
the sheer ferocity of that orgasm Kevin could hold back no longer.
He bent his knees and began to grind up and down the tight
constriction of her bottom until the heat became a burning fire in
his balls which exploded upward like a geyser inside her. Then with
a sigh of satisfaction and sheer exhaustion he pulled out and
flopped onto his back on the bed.

He turned his
head. Louise hung there, shifting faintly with discomfort, the
marks on her body flaming against her white skin, still not crying
pax. Putting his hands behind his head, Kevin just lay and watched
her with enjoyment, she was so incredibly beautiful.

When he was
sufficiently rested he went and examined her chest of wonderful
toys once more. To his delight he found things he had only ever
seen in catalogues, and over the next couple of hours managed to
bring himself to orgasm twice more until he collapsed,
exhausted.

After
showering he released Louise from her bonds and lifted the rubber
hood from her flushed face. She looked disorientated, spaced out,
and as tired as he was. He smacked her bum, making her wince.
'Bed,' he said, and she went obediently without a word, burned out
by the internal fires he had stoked.

He awoke in
the morning refreshed enough to thrust himself into her with little
finesse, before leaving.

Looking
forward to Esther's tender ministrations once more, Kevin laboured
under the happy knowledge that what he had done was for all for
her. She was a lady, not like Louise, and it was far far better
that he kept his more animal instincts and his dark desires where
they belonged - out of her sight.

When Kevin got
home, his clothes infused with the smoky scent of josticks, Esther
said nothing, although she noticed the tiredness in his face and
heard the lies in his voice. Yet she was not as upset as she would
have been a few months ago. She played the dutiful wife for the
rest of the day, lulling him into complacency and stroking his ego.
She plied him with wine and rubbed his feet with massage oils,
amused by the fact that this erotic action engendered not the
slightest bit of interest in her husband. Oh, had he been having
himself a good time.

Later that
night, once she heard Kevin's breathing subside to a slow and
laborious snore she climbed out of bed and turned on the light. He
wouldn't wake. She was euphoric. She was walking on air. Until you
experience it, Madam had said, you will not understand. Experience
what? she had asked, confused, thinking Madam meant some kinky kind
of sexual act.

Madam meant
self-confidence, and with it the glorious freedom to enjoy life
with uninhibited pleasure. Esther discovered this elusive thing had
not arrived in a blinding flash, but grew inside her so slowly and
insidiously she had not even noticed its arrival, but once she did,
she knew it was with her forever. It was that indefinable thing
which separated people into leaders and followers, doers and
whiners. It blossomed deep inside the psyche, and was enhanced only
by the realisation that to be interested in self was not
selfishness so much as awareness.

She learned
that lesson more fully than she realised on the night of the
business dinner. That evening changed her perception of self more
fully than Madam or Kevin could know, for nothing was visible to
the eye. Yet she thrived on the memory. For the first time in her
life she had walked into a crowded room and every eye there turned
to her. The deliberate sexual magnetism of her attire had made her
feel wonderful; the women stared with an admiration born of
jealousy, the men with lust. There was power! She had enjoyed every
moment. Even to the jealousy in her husband's eyes. Especially
that.

He had not
displayed jealousy since before their marriage. It seemed a very
long time, yet within an hour she had men grovelling for her
attention, and their wives, perforce, were begging for her favours.
She knew those who had pitied her before were jealous now, but if
there was a sex symbol orbiting in their vicinity, they wanted to
control access. She had wanted to laugh out loud!

How Kevin had
revelled in those long-awaited invitations. And how she had enjoyed
being the catalyst that finally made it happen. The truth was
awesome. Now she knew what they meant by behind every powerful man
is a powerful woman. Men were so driven by their pricks, by their
inherent superiority, they didn't realise women were just as
strong, but in a more devious fashion, and they just couldn't
accept that women had the same force driving them when it was
disguised by femininity. The only difference Esther could see was
that women had the strength to manipulate that sexual drive instead
of allowing it to dictate to them.

She hummed to
herself as she wrapped the thick leather straps around her
husband's wrists. She saw him smile through his drugged sleep as
she trussed him, and she loved him more than she had in a long
time. Then she pushed him onto his back and climbed over him.
'Enjoy,' she whispered, holding his hands above his head, and felt
his sex move feebly in response to her slow kiss. It was nice to be
in charge.

Then she went
to sleep.

Some time
later Kevin awoke to the feel of leather restraints around his
wrist and ankles. He tested their strength happily. Oh, boy, he
thought as he found them immovable. Oh, boy. As his head began to
pound with the expected hangover he realised he was stretched
between two points, wrists crossed above his head, ankles spread
wide and trussed tightly.

He wriggled experimentally. He was racked tightly on a soft
surface. A bed. Yes, that made sense. The confinement and the
connotations immediately sent signals to his sexual awareness, and
he wallowed in the lonely enjoyment of his predicament. He wanted
to touch himself, and it was unbelievably erotic not to be able to
do so. He waited, knowing that
she
was behind it; that
she
would arrive at some stage and do
wonderful things to him - things he had barely hoped could ever
happen. He was undeniably out of control of his present situation,
and though he writhed and tested the bonds again and again, escape
was very far from his present desires.

The
confinement was exquisite.

Welcome, dream
woman, he thought, afraid to open his eyes in case this sexual
euphoria disappeared.

And suddenly
she was there. A waft of exotic scent, the sensuous touch of a
fingertip upon his bare skin. He moaned in anticipation.

'What shall I
do, I wonder?' she whispered.

'Fuck me,'
Kevin replied hopefully, eyes tightly shut in case she disappeared
with awakening. 'Fuck the pants off of me.'

'Tut-tut, such
a lack of finesse. Fucking undoubtedly will happen, but what shall
I do first? Shall I gag you? Shall I beat you? Shall I give you a
massage? Tell me, slave. What shall it be?'

'Beat me,' he
said softly, feeling the exquisite shiver of excitement fill him at
the thought. 'Please beat me, mistress. I've had thoughts about you
beating me which have been driving me to distraction because I
thought I'd never see you again.'

'You're not
seeing me now, slave. Do you mind?'

Her voice was
soft, sensuous, and oh so sexy. 'No, mistress,' he croaked. He felt
the soft touch of leather around his eyes and knew he was safely
blindfolded. He tried to open his eyes, and could not. The relief!
'Chastise me, goddess,' he whispered, and writhed in the darkness
of his fantasy.

'What did you
call me?' She was astonished.

'Goddess,' he
repeated urgently. 'Queen of my darkest fantasies, chastise
me!'

Blimey,
thought Esther, staring at her bound and erect husband. Now what?
She took the new leather bondage straps she had bought and wrapped
them about his body. Around his chest, middle, thighs, and knees,
not adding to his confinement, for he could not move, but binding
him more deeply into his own sexual awareness.

Then she sat
and watched while he writhed, enjoying his confinement, locked into
some private eroticism the bondage alone stimulated. His penis
pulsed, and she had to do nothing, for he was pleasing himself with
his thoughts. 'You dirty old man,' she said to herself in
amusement, and began to knead her own flesh in response to a sudden
overpowering urge from within.

After a while
the simple confinement began to pall, though, and Kevin began to
make dissatisfied noises. 'You want me to touch you, slave?' Esther
whispered.

'Yes, oh yes,'
he groaned.

She reached
out and stroked the bonds at his wrists. 'You're not going to be
silly and try to escape, are you, slave?'

'No,' he
groaned. 'Oh, no.'

She released
his ankles from the end of the bed, then unbuckled one restrained
wrist. 'Roll over,' she ordered.

Dutifully he
did so and let her twist his free arm behind his back and clip his
wrist into the thick waist belt.

'And the other
one,' she continued, and the other wrist followed suit.

She sat back
on her heels and watched her husband for a moment, bemused by the
power she had over him. He could have escaped at that moment, had
he wanted to. Obviously he did not. Now, however, his wrists were
firmly affixed to his spine. She joined his ankles with a six-inch
strap, then made him sit up.

'Walk,' she
ordered.

'Where to,
mistress?' he asked humbly, attaining his feet, but finding balance
slightly difficult.

'Forward,' she
told him, and gave him a smart rap on the buttocks. When they
reached the stairs she instructed, 'Now step down. One, two,
three...'

He edged
forward, one step at a time. 'Where are you taking me?' he asked.
'Where am I?'

Questions
tinged with excitement and fear.

'To my
dungeon, slave,' she said.

'And what will
you do to me there?'

He was
positively quivering with excitement, she realised. It was
certainly not fear.

'What would
you like me to do?' she mused. 'Shall you be a schoolgirl who needs
spanking, perhaps, and I the teacher? Maybe you're in a mental
hospital, wrapped in a straightjacket and about to have electric
treatment to stop your terrible wanking? Or perhaps I am the
gangster's moll with a gun to your head while you lick my shoes
clean? Or perhaps you're the prisoner and I the torturer encased in
skin-tight rubber? Or maybe you like my leather and whips?' Each
time she adjusted her voice to suit the character, and he shuffled
determinedly down the hall before her to the altered garage.

'I am your
prisoner, fair torturer,' he said hoarsely. 'I can see you. You're
wearing studded leather and high-heeled shoes and you're carrying a
whip. I'm quivering at your feet, goddess.'

'Then shall I
whip you and make you pay for your infidelity, slave?'

His
imagination had taken over entirely. 'Please,' he begged, stumbling
forward as fast as his hobbles would permit. 'Please!'