Destined to Play (19 page)

My wrists are released from behind me and rebound together in front of me. My arms are stretched way beyond my head. No further please, I pray silently. My hips are steadied as the stretching continues and my body is then forced to bend over a spongy bar until I reach the floor where my bound wrists are attached and secured, along with my neck. This position ensures my chest is now lower than my now-protruding arse. I can only imagine my breasts dangling free as my breathing escalates, ensuring I understand this is all very real and not a dream at all. All hands are removed from my body. My restraints are now entirely non-human.

The sound of my racing heart consumes me. It pumps so hard and fast I wonder if this is it.

Is this what a heart attack feels like? Am I having a heart attack right this second? What a position to die in. Before I fully assimilate the possibility of heart failure, my body bucks against the intrusion of yet more probing fingers. I feel my nipples harden and my butt jolts at the invasion. I hold my breath as they stay longer this time, apply more pressure, test and stretch the confines of their now slippery surrounds. Warmth emanates from within me as my vagina moistens in anticipation of their touch. The sound of my heart racing threatens to explode in my ears. I exhale sharply as they retract; shocked at the emptiness they leave behind.

Then nothing but my beating heart.

I am stung so hard and fast on my arse I freeze, completely rigid.

It happens again. It stops.

There is no breath going into or out of my lungs.

And again. It stops.

I need to inhale.

In quick succession, I am struck again and again and again and again. I inhale with each thwack of the strap landing across my arse, unable to exhale from the sheer shock of it. The oxygen intake is in stark conflict to the silent scream frantically attempting to leave my throat, rendering it impossible. I spasm as my head spins in turmoil.

The stinging sensation is like nothing I’ve experienced before; not too painful but not un-painful. Just enough to feel the bite on the surface of my flesh for a second or two, then just as quickly the sensation begins to recede. It starts and it stops. I am left panting, overwhelmed.

Cooling ointment is being caressed into my buttocks, so smoothly, so seductively I could weep at the miraculous change in intensity. I’m already emotionally spent. Can I really take this?

Perhaps my thesis would have proved a very different piece of work had I experienced this first-hand.

Then again thwack, thwack, and again higher, lower, within and around … and I lose count

…

My world slides into slow motion. I’m splitting in two.

My body arches and retracts in both desperation and desire as it attempts to avoid the impact of the relentless lashes on my buttocks. I’m writhing and squirming internally as my arse maintains its rigid position as if it is begging for more. Is it, I wonder?

My hips are held firm as yet again the probing fingers effortlessly slide in to reacquaint themselves with my vagina. I feel the deep vibration in my lower body that releases a seed of invitation to this entire experience. I feel my vulva swell in anticipation as if my vagina is welcoming a long-lost friend and I am throbbing, aching and wet. I have no doubt the owner of the fingers is ensuring this information is ‘noted’, given its extended stay within me.

They leave. Cooling ointment arrives, applied with hands stroking softly, gently, my arse attempting to replicate the rhythm of the caress. Once again tears flow with the relief and tenderness of it. What is happening to me?

I’m left alone. I breathe. I sob.

Blackness and silence encompass me.

It is only now that I register I want more.

The straps under my knees and binding my ankles are released. My legs tremble and shake in response. Knees are repositioned further apart, spread wide, re-strapped and ankles realigned and anchored accordingly. Oh, dear god. Abstractly, I wonder why I use the term ‘god’ in such highly sexualised moments. The bar is shifted into a higher position, resulting in my arse becoming an even more obvious spread-eagled target, if that were possible. The essence of my womanhood, the physical entrances to my inner sanctum being showcased, spotlighted, publicly stage managed for examination by however many people are present in this sadistic audience.

This can’t possibly be who I am, can it?

My heart cannot beat fast enough to accommodate the power my anticipatory arousal cascades over my entire body.

Thwack. Pause. Then a smooth, cold, sliding sensation over the sting.

Then again. Thwack. Pause. Slide.

Thwack. Pause. Slide … It establishes a rhythm my body starts to anticipate and desire, shifting itself like a ladder across my arse. I try to prepare for the collision, but am left with only the sensation of the exquisite pain before the reassuring slide and relief of the more caressing touch. I throb in anticipation of this effect. The focus shifts to my inner thighs, not as forceful, but so enormously arousing.

I want more.

I need more.

I receive more.

The combination of pleasure and pain is blowing my mind and my body has no choice but to revel in this carnal ambush.

It stops. I gasp. Given the concentration on my behind and thighs, it takes me a moment to acknowledge someone is fiddling with my nipples, tweaking them before clamping them. The sensation shoots straight to my groin. Something is belted around my waist that forces my body closer to the floor, my arse maintaining its position over the bar. All restraints are checked again and tightened, and their security is tested by my own body as a low current emits from whatever is attached to my nipples, the warm shock of it ensuring my entire body bucks against the restraints. I silently shriek at the tantalising impact. As I adjust to the sensation, it’s as if the current from my nipples is directly attached to my clitoris like a sexually charged triangular wire. The tingling warms my entire body and the pain becomes a teasing, pleasurable vibration.

God, what are they doing to me? I have become a sexual exhibit, something you might see depicted in the future of MONA’s darkest hours.

The striking continues, bringing the intruding pain to the forefront of my body and mind.

Then the pleasure returns, albeit briefly. Then the pain. My body allows them complete control in alternating between these extreme sensations with the flick of a switch. I am Pavlov’s dog.

It is as if my body has acclimatised to the sensation of such pleasurable pain as it takes me a moment to realise it has been replaced once again by a low vibration flowing through my nipples. The fingers reassert themselves beyond my vulva, and attach something that emits an intense vibration close to my clitoris. Too close! I freeze with panic and desire; my vulnerability is absolute. The intensity of the vibration increases, slowly and steadily. I feel myself break into a sweat of sexual anxiety. The fingers bypass my buzzing clit and spend time probing and exploring my vagina, my perineum. If I could move, I’d have collapsed in a heap on the floor by now. As it is, my body is like melting wax hardening in time against the mould the restraints provide. I notice that my body temperature is rising, along with my rapturous arousal.

The fingers are now warm, experienced, pleasure-seeking fingers and I feel my opening welcoming them in further, deeper. My mute throat groans with both shame and desire as I beseech my mind to stay alert. The fingers locate dimensions I have never found before, never explored myself. My perineum, my anus, nothing is ignored in this process. Oh god! Jeez, there’s that word again. They play and push and press and probe, as if monitoring and assessing the impact their every touch has on my body. I desperately try to control my responses, to rein these intensely sexual feelings in, but they are free spirits, they won’t be tempered. The fingers settle, positioning themselves carefully, then insistently, then rhythmically, then intensely as they set off rippled explosions through my muscles. I absently wonder if an orgasm can be forced upon you.

Do I want to have an orgasm in front of others? Will I have the choice?

Oh god …

Vibrations soar through my nipples and clitoris as my mind becomes awash with pleasure and desire. My ability to control the ambush of pleasure penetrating my body is a receding black hole in my mind’s eye. Although entirely bound and anchored to the earth, my grip on reality is being diluted by the second. I sense the ominous waves building momentum over the horizon, threatening to annihilate my mind and enable my body’s ultimate surrender.

I focus.

They probe.

I resist.

They vibrate.

I freeze.

They target.

I relinquish.

They pleasure.

I release.

They win.

The next second introduces me to the most amazingly intense, shooting, powerful sensation I have ever felt in my life. It enters at the tip of my nipples and surges through my body at lightning speed, coinciding with the very lubricated penetration of both my vagina and my anus. I reel against the total ambush of my body so completely I now feel as if I have torn free from my restraints and physically crashed into the ceiling.

All concept of time is suspended; my rational brain officially closes down, enabling my sensory mind to take full control and allow direct passage to every feeling and sensation colliding with my body. I am launched into another stratosphere.

Surrender!

Freedom!

Pure … sensual … ecstasy …

Warm, throbbing vibrations emanating from the core of my being.

It is all-encompassing, wave after endless wave of bliss.

The rhythm, the waves of rapture moving through me.

I’m throbbing, pulsing … is this too much?

Can I take any more?

I certainly hope so …

Vibrations regain their intense focus in my very being, pounding deep within my core, but the ride has become smoother, not as wild and overwhelming as before. I’m not going to fall off the edge like a log over a roaring waterfall.

Eventually, my mind re-establishes itself in my brain. My earplugs are removed and the strong arms release me from my binds; I’m lifted away, no longer anchored to the floor.

I’m now lying down on something large and soft and warm and I feel like my entire body is melting like a giant marshmallow into toasty fire, the cushioning is so perfectly accommodating my every movement. It feels good to stretch and be free again.

I detect a delightful flickering across my breasts arousing me from my liquid state.

God, that feels so good.

Now it’s on both sides. I feel blood flowing to the tips of my nipples.

How erotic. I let out a deep sigh …

The flickering turns into gentle pulling and kneading.

Each nipple has a slightly different tension, different rhythm …

It becomes more intense. Moist warmth arrives on my lips.

It is difficult to know where to focus.

My mouth is pried open softly by a warm tongue. It feels familiar but odd somehow, like it might be upside down. I squirm slightly under the soft pressure but allow the sensations of the kneading, sucking and licking to continue unabated … So many tongues accessing my body — oh yes, Jeremy, this is absolutely worth it! No fantasy in my mind could ever match this reality. I find it impossible to imagine what it looks like from the outside, as the touching and feeling are all-encompassing.

All of this attention feels so incredible on my body.

As my mouth and breasts are being consumed, my attention is drawn to light flutters moving steadily up each thigh. My legs open automatically to ensure their progress isn’t hindered in any way. Oh, yes, please come in. This is truly divine.

Flicking, tugging, kneading, biting — not too much, not too little. It is so perfect, I could cry. There is too much to focus on so I just let go, let my body absorb the intensity of desire and longing within me.

The tongue below reaches my entrance. It explores my inner depths ever so carefully, yet so purposefully and intensely.

Like it is sifting through precious jewels, probing to locate something rare and valuable. It takes my breath away. Tongue and lips suck and nibble and are never distracted from their mission until the tongue finally locates the gem it is searching for. It focuses like a missile penetrating deeply and wholly and relentlessly on its target. The tongues from the other mouths intensify their response to replicate its energy and penetration.

Desire threatens to devour my entire body as the tongues multiply exponentially, frantically searching for a place to penetrate, deeper, further, harder, faster. My ears, mouth, neck, breast, bellybutton, vulva, fingers, toes, wrists, ankles, knees, underarms — it feels like no part of my body is left untouched.

My body arches violently with the magnitude of my desire. The tongues and lips and teeth don’t skip a beat with my movement, instantaneously igniting their insatiable quest for more. I need them to slow down, ease up, though I desperately hope they don’t. They quicken to the pulse of my heartbeat, like a drum beating to a tribal rhythm of life. Wild passion ignites deep within my soul and integrates with the essence of my body; we pulse and beat mindlessly as one heart sends blood flow and orgasmic lust to the farthest reaches of my being and spins itself into a crashing hiatus, like the eye of a tornado.

No heartbeat.

No pulse.

No thought.

No mind.

I plunge into the profound abyss of euphoria.

And then it ignites and roars into a violent and awesome flow of sheer energy exploding, crashing and pumping through my body as though the centre of my being is Mount Vesuvius erupting over Pompeii.

The entirety of my world bursts so fast it takes everything away … away … away …

And my body convulses as it reacts to an electrifying series of erotic explosions over and over and over and over again …

Like it has never experienced before … like I never believed possible …

Pumping, pumping, pumping through every orifice of my body, setting my skin alight with liquid lava.