Darkest Fantasies (9 page)

His need
overtook him. He groaned. The unknown woman climbed from him,
sated. He moved, writhed, begged without words for her to take him
in her hands and finish the job. She couldn't leave him like
this...

He sensed she
was watching.

'Say it,' she
said softly.

No, he
couldn't. He'd never beg!

'Say it. Ask
me. Beg me.'

He groaned
weakly. His penis was throbbing, and if it wasn't stimulated he
knew his erection would merely melt away of its own accord, but
even if it did, his need to come would remain an urgent compulsion
deep inside his brain, and wouldn't disappear until it had been
consummated.

'I'll say it
one more time,' she warned. 'Then I'll go.'

'Please!' he
gasped.

Strong fingers
wrapped around him, lifted, milked briefly, and in an instant he
shot his load into the cup of her hand. 'Now what do you say?' the
seductive voice persisted.

'Bastard!' he
muttered. If she thought he was going to say thank you... God, he'd
never said thank you before in his life! They always said it to
him. Except that Michelle bitch, and this wasn't her, he'd
swear.

She walked
away. He heard the running of water, and his normal icy composure
returned.

He said
sarcastically, 'If you've quite finished, you can let me up
now.'

She responded
with a soft chuckle. 'Why, slave, you have such a lot to learn.
I've hardly started. Be kind to yourself. Thank me for this
lesson.'

A cold shiver
ran down his spine. 'Fuck you,' he growled.

'If you don't
do it voluntarily, I will force it out of you.'

'Bitch! Let me
up!'

'I'm sorry, I
can't do that. I enjoyed myself, and I want to do it again, and
again, and again. But you have to learn to appreciate the quality
time I'm giving you. You must learn to be grateful.'

'I don't want
to be grateful,' he hissed. 'I've got a wife. I have to go
home.'

Her voice was
suddenly harsh. 'You don't normally care about that, so why should
I?'

'But...' how
much did she know about him? 'Please? Please let me up.'

'I like it
when you say please.' Her voice dropped a notch. 'Say please
again.'

The false
sugar melted from his voice. 'Let me up you fucking bitch!' he
snarled.

'Don't scream
at me, slave.'

'I'm not
anybody's slave!'

'You are
mine.'

He screamed as
loud as he could. 'Help! Help! Rape! Murder!' He stopped and
listened, hoping for help, expecting retribution, but all he heard
was a soft laugh. His head followed the sound of her as she walked
right around him.

'The room is
soundproofed, slave. No one can help you. You're mine to do with as
I please. You will wait here at my pleasure, and you will pleasure
me whenever I choose. I can make you do it, you know I can. But if
you're a good boy, and if you please me really, really well,' her
low laughter made his skin crawl, 'I might keep you for ever and
ever and ever.'

With those
parting words he felt the draft of a door opening and the soft thud
of its closing as she left him chained to the bed, a male rubber
doll with no other reason for his existence than waiting on her
pleasure. And that waiting seemed to stretch into eternity. His
thoughts buzzed around the women he had been with, Esther, his
work, his home, and back to whoever had him here now. He feared
that unless he escaped, life as he knew it was probably over.

The next time
she came into the room Kevin could only listen. He heard the door
open and close. He heard the click of a switch, but not the
faintest hint of light trickled through his blindfold.

'Who are you?'
he asked again, tensing with unease.

'You may call
me Mistress,' she said.

'Like hell.'
There was silence for a moment. 'I'm hungry.'

'Well you can
just stay that way until you do something to earn your food.'

He pulled with
frustration at his restraints. 'I can't do anything like this.' His
voice softened, wheedled. 'Let me up and I'll please you. I know
how to please a woman. I can please you. I know all the places to
touch...'

'I doubt
that,' she said acerbically.

For a fleeting
second he wondered where he'd heard that voice before, then teeth
closed on his right nipple and he screamed, forgetting everything
except the excruciating pain. She bit, ground her teeth together on
him, and a hand slid down his stomach, over his penis and balls,
between his legs, and a finger wormed into his anus. He spasmed
violently at the intrusion, but his penis flickered defiantly into
life. He whimpered, tried to thrust the finger out, and farted.

The indignity
of it!

He gasped on a
threat and a prayer as her questing tongue roamed across his chest,
long strokes licking, drawing back, and licking again. He tensed
with anticipation, but could do nothing to forestall the agony as
she bit into the other nipple with sharp teeth. He heard her growl
with pleasure deep in her throat as her teeth ground upon his
throbbing flesh. 'Oh no,' he cried. 'Help me!'

But her hands
worked their subtle magic on his flesh, and as her finger slid in
and out of his protesting anus, so his balls tightened and his
penis became engorged with the shameful pleasure of it. And once
again she was able to ease herself down upon him and bring herself
to the height of orgasm whether he would or no.

He felt the
pulse of her orgasm wrap around him and he whimpered slightly as
she paused, gasping, assuming she had finished with him. Yet she
remained poised over him. 'Is that nice, slave?' she whispered.

'Yes... oh
yes,' he whispered back.

'Shall I stop?
Do you want me to go away?'

'No... no,
don't stop, please...'

'Mistress,'
she prompted.

'Mistress,' he
gasped. 'Don't stop.' And then he heard her chuckle at his
capitulation.

She rode him
expertly, bringing him to the peak of ecstasy time and time again,
pausing when his need grew too great, and then sinking softly down
upon an erection more tender, more vibrant than he had ever had
before. Each time he felt his orgasm coming she slowed, paused,
allowed him to hold his seed. Now she moved for his satisfaction
alone, for she had already come. When he could hold himself no
longer he cried out, and she pressed herself down on him hard so
that he came deep within her, felt her grind against his painful
ejaculation, and she didn't move or say a word until the last flush
had faded from his body. Then she leaned forward and kissed him
tenderly. To his surprise, he kissed her back, running his tongue
around her even teeth, savouring the fresh toothpaste taste of her.
'You're beautiful,' he whispered sincerely.

'And you're
mine,' she said softly back.

There was a
pause. 'You can't keep me here,' he told her. 'My wife will worry.
I'll lose my job...'

'You've got no
choice,' she told him, removing herself from his body. 'You're my
prisoner, my sexual partner, my slave, unless I choose to let you
go.'

'But why me?'
he said in dismay. 'Why do you want to ruin my life?'

'I don't want
to ruin it,' she told him enigmatically. 'I want to make it better.
Believe me, you are just the shell of the man you could become.
That's why I picked you out of all the others, because you have
potential. Presently you're neither a good lover, nor successful at
work. But if you learn well, my slave, by the time I have finished
with you, you can be both. And you'll learn to be satisfied with no
woman except me.'

He groaned at
the possessive purr he heard in the back of her throat. 'I have a
life to return to... a wife...'

'Your wife is
nothing to you, I've seen that. Don't think about her any more.
Just think about me. Without me you're nothing, little man. But if
you serve me well, you'll be rewarded for your labours, believe
me.'

'Just let me
go,' he pleaded.

He felt the
soft touch of lips upon his. 'That, I may never do.'

This time,
when she left, Kevin was filled with anguish. It was all very well
having the odd fling, but he had never wanted the same woman more
than a few times, apart from Esther. It was funny how once you'd
had it with a woman it just became a routine. A chore, almost. It
was a good job wives had so little sex drive. It would kill a man
if they were all like this one - this Madam... this dominatrix.

But how could
he ever go back to his wife now? How could he go back to his old
life, his old confidence, knowing that some woman had kept him
bound at her pleasure? He felt such an idiot. Yet a small betraying
spark of excitement reminded him he had never felt so satiated in
his life.

Bloody hell,
what a woman!

He heard water
running, and tested his bonds with fainthearted tugs, as he twisted
his head to listen. 'What are you doing?' he called.

'I'm washing.
I like to wash after sex.'

'Then what are
you going to do?'

'I am going to
go and get on with my work.'

He was vaguely
annoyed. 'And what am I supposed to do?'

'The only
thing you can do. Wait for me.'

He pulled at
his bonds with more effort. 'If I could get my hands free I'd kill
you for this, you bitch.'

'Enjoy
thinking about it, slave, because that's all you can do.'

He heard a
smile in her voice as she left. 'What about me?' he roared. 'I want
to wash. I want to piss. I want to move. I'm hungry, dammit!'

The door
closed behind the mystery woman.

The euphoria
of that exquisite fuck began to wear off. 'Hell and damnation,'
Kevin cursed. 'If ever a man has had an erotic dream, this is
probably it. But it's not funny,' he yelled, in case she was
listening. 'It's not bloody funny at all! I've had enough!'

He had no idea
of the passing of time. He could only tell that his hunger had
become an encompassing ache.

He began to
think of his evenings at home with Esther. The way they had sat in
silence through the police serials he enjoyed. The way she had
quietly and calmly cleaned up around him before they went to bed.
The way she had been so infuriatingly accommodating to his needs,
making herself available; on her back without comment, like a
receptacle placidly waiting to be filled.

Why hadn't she
been a bit like this Madam character? Taking the initiative for
once? Damn it, why were women such opposites? Either sexually
starved vampires, clawing at a man for his rod, or sexually
retarded, like Esther. Why couldn't they just have understandable
needs, like men? Like him?

He pulled
against his bonds. The stretched position was beginning to make his
muscles complain. Even as he thought it, his calf muscles spasmed.
He cried out in agony, unable to move to relieve the awful
contraction.

Suddenly the
door opened again. She was there. 'What's the matter?' She sounded
genuinely concerned.

'Cramp,' he
gasped.

'Ah, I didn't
think of that. Where?' He told her, and she began to knead his
cramping muscles with firm fingers. 'I guess you could do with some
exercise.'

'Yes,' he
agreed instantly, seeing the chance of escape. 'Exercise, that's
the answer.'

A cold flannel
wrapped around his mouth and nose. He inhaled a strange smell, felt
his senses swim and tried to pull his face away, but her hand
followed his nose, and consciousness receded.

When he came
too, something had changed. He realised that he was no longer
spread-eagled. Had it all been a horrible dream? He wriggled
experimentally. His hands were by his sides, but they were not
free. Nothing was free. His hands were glued to his thighs, his
elbows to his sides, and his knees and ankles were bonded together.
'What the?' he said, his speech strangely slurred.

'I thought you
might like a change of scenery.'

It was her. He
was still there, wherever there was, at the mercy of his unknown
tormentor. Only now he was wrapped, something like a caterpillar,
in a web of straps. He was still lying on the bed, but could do no
more than flex his joined knees. His hands, rather disconcertingly,
seemed to be in pockets of leather, and no amount of wrenching and
pulling would free them. She pulled his feet over the side, heaved
his shoulders. He sat up on the edge of the bed.

'What now?' he
said irritably, his senses slowly returning. He could feel straps
around his neck, chest, middle, upper thigh, above and below the
knee, and ankle, and as he strained, he became aware that they were
all joined together from top to bottom.

'First we
eat,' she said. 'Then we have some more fun.'

Kevin didn't
like the sound of that.

'Open wide,'
she urged.

'What for?' he
said defensively.

'One last
chance. Eat or don't, I don't care.'

He opened his
mouth, and was spoon-fed some pap like a baby.

'That's all,'
she said after a few mouthfuls.

'But I'm still
hungry,' he complained.

'You might
have some cravings, but that was adequate. Any more and you'll get
fat. And we can't have that, now can we?'

'It's my body.
If I want to get fat, I'll bloody-well do so.'

She chuckled.
'Not here, you won't.'

His head
cocked worriedly inside the blindfold, and he felt something
tighten and begin to lift him up and forwards. 'Aaaah!' he yelled,
expecting to fall flat n his face, unable to lift his hands to his
aid. But instead his knees buckled just slightly, and the slack was
taken up. He bounced. He pulled with anger against this new
indignity, and just bounced some more. He was strung up on
something elastic, just like a baby-bouncer, he realised. He wailed
his displeasure.