Destined to Play (10 page)

Reality strikes. I try to prise open my eyes, momentarily forgetting my current situation and hesitate before touching the blindfold, the memory of the same action from last night and the repercussions that followed preventing me from doing so. This was no dream and from what I understand, for me at least, it will be dark both night and day.

The persistent aggravation at my feet recommences, meandering its way past my ankles, along my lower leg, and toward my knee. A very ticklish spot for me, it has always been intolerable to be tickled there. I sit up, fully alert.

‘Hello there.’ Jeremy’s voice. Definitely not a dream.

I laugh nervously. ‘Hello there. How long have I been asleep?’

‘You ask a question in the first seconds of waking up. Be a good girl for me, Alex. No questions. Please just lie back down and keep quiet.’

I obey. I don’t want to argue. I feel the sheet being whisked off the bed, as I lie there, exposed, naked. The feathers continue their journey, making me squirm as they tease their way past my bellybutton to my nipples. I don’t need to see them to know how instantly they respond to this ticklish touch.

‘My body betrays me so easily,’ I whisper almost to myself.

‘It always has; when will you start listening to it?’

I ponder the question.

‘Please raise your arms above your head and keep them there.’ I do what I am told, his direct instructions for some reason becoming easier to follow as my mind flitters off on other tangents. The feathers play with my arms, my face, my neck. Being blindfolded, naked, and having feathers gently and carefully caressing my body without any idea as to where they could land is like nothing I have ever experienced. Their lightness is like butterflies fluttering in a gentle breeze, barely touching my skin, and the ever-so-mild sensation they deliver on contact sends shivers and goosebumps all over my body.

‘Please part your legs,’ Jeremy orders politely. Whether it is years of defensive or protective sexual behaviour I’m not sure, but these words immediately cause my legs to press firmly together and my hands lower themselves from above my head to cover my pubis.

‘Interesting …’ Jeremy murmurs. The feathers stop their crusade and nothing else is said. I can feel him waiting for my next reaction. My arms slowly return to their original position above my head.

Continued silence. My vulva pulses with so much anticipation I am scared to part my legs in case the throbbing looks as obvious to him as it feels to me. As if it wouldn’t be, I reprimand myself.

‘I’ll ask one more time, please open your legs.’

I sigh, embarrassed but enormously aroused. I slowly inch my thighs apart.

‘Further, please.’ His voice is adamant. God, he really has to make a point of things. I bend my knees as I open wider for him, the throbbing within me deepening with anticipation. I try not to move as the tickling recommences, but it is exceptionally difficult. I begin to wriggle and squirm, attempting to anticipate his next focus point on my body. An impossible task, but I manage to maintain my overall position as best I can. The tickling is insistent, teasing, yet so light, almost caressing, but not quite. My body yearns for more, longing for Jeremy’s touch. In all this time his skin never touches my body, not once. I am literally craving him. My breath grows shallow. How much longer can he keep this going? I can’t stand it. I need more pressure, more something, anything. I can’t help but lower my hands to my breasts as my back arches with the continuing sensation. I am hungry for him to be inside me, desperate for his physical touch. His patience is beyond what my body can bear and he knows it. He always loved testing my limits, pushing my boundaries further than I ever thought possible.

‘Jeremy.’ I call his name as I reach out for him.

‘Patience, sweetheart, patience. Until you lie completely still and do exactly as I ask, this will continue and relief will elude you. The more disciplined you are, the greater the reward.’

‘Oh, god,’ I groan, knowing all too well he is completely serious. His ability to tease, tickle and torment every inch of my body has been tried and tested on many occasions throughout our history. I sigh in utter frustration. I am too far gone to say no and he knows only too well I am craving release. I summon all my ‘inner zen’ to lie still, in the position
he
wants me in and accept the relentless torment without further protest or complaint. I try to count backwards from 100 and lose count as I arrive rapidly at eighty-nine, unable to focus my mind.

I squirm.

He stops.

I lie still.

He recommences feather warfare. I am frantic for his touch while attempting to maintain this position for him.

He is relentless, disciplined and patient.

I am not.

When I’m saturated with frustration and desire, his body suddenly slams on top of me, spearing his throbbing penis into my vagina so completely I cannot withhold the scream that escapes my lungs. My legs are spread far and wide as he penetrates deeper layers, sparing no force as he pins my arms above my head. He thrusts and thrusts, it is hard and it is fast and it is exactly what I need. My back arches at the force of him, flinging back my head. I feel winded without the dreadful pain. My lubricated vagina hungrily absorbs his entry as he explodes inside me.

Apparently his patience had finally reached its limit. Thank heavens!

He collapses on top of me, his weight smothering me into the mattress. We are speechless as we both pant for more oxygen. My tingles below return, deep longing in the base of my belly.

This sensation began in the bath and will no doubt stay with me for some time. He snuggles into my neck.

‘That was unbelievable. I’ve never woken up like that in my life.’

‘Likewise,’ he agrees, kissing, almost eating, my neck.

‘Please don’t make me wait that long again. You almost sent me over the edge.’

He continues devouring my neck hungrily with his lips and tongue before admitting a dire truth. ‘I’m certainly never going to promise you that, sweetheart.’

I groan. Again.

‘You must be starving. Let’s eat!’

I can honestly say my body has never felt more alive. I have not been this sexed up since my early twenties but this is so much more than it ever was then. How we still have it in us, I don’t know. My lips above want to smile. My lips below are buzzing with greed and anticipation. I can feel sexual energy pulsing through my veins, in my blood. It is the weirdest sensation, sated yet hungry for more. What is happening to me? Can it really be the lack of visual stimulation enabling me to feel so much more than usual, or is it the result of the emotional roller-coaster Jeremy has carefully crafted since my arrival? It’s as if he is awakening sexual cravings that have been lying dormant within me for years, just waiting to be ignited. I can only conclude it must be the combination of all the above as my ability to conduct further analysis at this stage is without a doubt, defunct. I can’t help but ruminate on the irony that my attempts to connect with my analytical mind for research purposes are being constantly annihilated by wave after wave of Jeremy-created sensation.

Jeremy orders almost everything he can think of from the room service menu. We chat and we laugh and we caress and it doesn’t seem so weird that I’m wearing a blindfold. His voice is so reassuring and familiar that I almost feel totally at ease. The food arrives and we finally eat. I am ravenous.

‘Are you still hungry?’ he inquires as he places another strawberry in my mouth.

‘I honestly can’t get enough of these, they’re addictive. There is something about fresh strawberries and five-star hotels. It’s like they are designer made, perfect …’

‘Well there is only one left. Here, you have it.’ He places it in my mouth and then suddenly withdraws it.

‘On second thoughts, you have probably had your share. I might keep this one for myself.’

He loosens my robe and I feel the strawberry circle my nipples. It travels past my bellybutton before teasing my opening. I feel the juicy fruit enticing my vulva.

‘I think this one would like to play hide and seek.’

I whimper as his tongue commences seeking.

Part IV

‘Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.’

— Anonymous

‘N
ow, let’s get you dressed. We have a big day ahead of us.’

‘A big day? Aren’t we just going to hang around here all day and play?’ I don’t envisage getting out of my bathrobe for quite a few hours so I don’t take him the least bit seriously.

‘Another question,’ he responds flatly.

Not the question thing again
, I think to myself. His tone makes me apprehensive. I don’t understand what it is about. What is he expecting? A mute? Of course I have questions, what woman on the face of the earth wouldn’t, even under normal circumstances, let alone in this situation? I wish he could just relax and chill a little more about the whole question thing.

Rather than saying any of these thoughts out loud however, inwardly congratulating myself from the lesson of last night, or whenever it was, I attempt a different tack.

‘So, what will I be wearing then?’ I ask chirpily, stupidly.

‘You really can’t stop yourself, can you?’

‘What?’

‘Asking questions!’ He sounds completely exasperated.

‘I didn’t!’ I say indignantly. ‘Oh, I did,’ as I remember my last words. ‘Slow learner, I guess?’ I try to make light of my error. I reach out to find him for a quick all-is-forgiven hug, but the space around me is decidedly empty.

‘You will learn, Alex,’ I hear from somewhere else in the room. ‘I’m just not sure that you will appreciate the lesson.’

‘What does that —?’ I hear the words leave my mouth before I can prevent them and immediately stop myself short. I don’t understand his cryptic comment but I am surely not going to be led into yet another question, just in case.

‘Alright then, let’s get dressed,’ I say as lightly and easily as possible.

‘Much better,’ he replies smoothly and kisses me on the lips. Happy again. All good.

Although … I can’t help but think that I’m being trained for something, like a good puppy.

‘The girls should be here any moment to help get you dressed.’

Even after these unexpected words, a knock on the door startles me more.

‘Girls. What girls?’ I say in a freakishly high voice. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ I say automatically before he does the ‘another question’ routine. I’m on edge all over again.

‘Just relax, I’ll get it.’ I’m really left with no choice. I hear female voices introduce themselves at the door to Jeremy, something like Cindy … Candy … He can’t be serious.

‘Hi, pleased you could make it. Come on in, she’s in here.’ My mind starts to spin as I urgently feel for the edge of the bed and accidentally roll off the corner, leaving me splattered on the floor. Jeremy comes rushing over asking if I’m okay. I feel like a complete idiot. I’m so embarrassed, I want to curl up in a small ball and disappear through the floor. How could he?

My heart is beating so fast, I don’t know what to think, do or say. He always had this fantasy about two girls … He wouldn’t, he couldn’t! He helps me to my feet.

‘Are you sure you’re alright? You look pale.’ I feel green, so I can only imagine how ‘pale’

I look. Words elude me.

‘The girls are here to help you dress for our big adventure,’ he exclaims, true blue excitement in his voice.

‘I don’t want or need any more adventures, Jeremy. I have now had enough for a lifetime,’ I say in a harsh whisper, as I don’t know how near or far ‘the girls’ are from where I am. He raises me to my feet and leads me to the bathroom. Oh god, is he insane?

‘Don’t worry, it’s not what you think. They are here to help, I promise.’ He extracts his arms from my grip and hands me over to them. I start to tremble. One of my hands is placed in each of theirs. I try to keep hold of him but his touch is withdrawn.

‘No, please don’t leave me. I don’t need their help. I’ll be fine on my own. Jeremy?’ I hear the door close and I am left alone in a panicked state with two female strangers and their call girl names, who are faceless to me, though I am not to them. I feel long fingernails on the hands gently removing my robe. I instinctively hold onto it, tightening its grip around my waist. The fingernails try again as other hands undo the waist tie simultaneously. I attempt to distract the touching fingernails by talking to them.

‘I’m honestly fine, I can handle this. It’s okay, really.’ They continue on their quest. I am surprised when they remove my blindfold. I am now fully naked. I am placed on the toilet. I cover myself with my arms. The shower is turned on and I am led into it. The water sizzles against my goosebumped skin. My hair is washed, conditioned and massaged so delicately and carefully that I find myself relaxing into it more than I imagined possible. The fingernails become allies as they smoothly lather me up beneath their expert touch. When four hands are skilfully conducting their business over your body, do you prevent them or willingly allow them to complete their mission? I accede to the latter.

The products they are using smell divine and feel rich and luxurious against my skin, leaving me feeling velvety soft as I’m thoughtfully rinsed clean with the steaming water cascading down from above. No words are spoken as I am exited from the shower and thick plush towels dry every inch of my body. Smooth, silky, moisturised hands glide along my legs, arms and torso. They lift one foot at a time and massage between each and every toe sending reverberations to other less obvious parts of my body. Wow, I had no idea toes could have that effect. When their task is complete I am carefully re-robed and I breathe a sigh of relief that they went no further. I feel so soft, so ripe, so replenished and I smell like I’ve been ensconced in an exotic genie-bottle of Coco Mademoiselle. I would hug myself, if I were alone. My hair is blow dried, then tightly bound into a low French braid. I attempt to open my eyes but my lids are still so heavy it hurts to try, so my grey darkness continues, with or without a blindfold, into the next unknown.