Surrender: Erotic Tales of Female Pleasure and Submission (10 page)

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Authors: Rachel Kramer Bussel,Donna George Storey

BOOK: Surrender: Erotic Tales of Female Pleasure and Submission
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I look at my watch.
Damn the time. It just won’t move
. I take another sip of my drink and stare at the envelope I have placed on the table in front of me. I feel the vein in my temple pulsate, indicating how tense I am.
He could simply be planning to take me to dinner
, I think in an effort to center myself. But I know it’s more than that. I just wish I had some idea. Then again, I love Dar for many reasons, one of which is his constant ability to take me by surprise. Our relationship is tumultuous. No one has hurt me more, but at the same time, no one had ever made me feel more alive and more treasured than Dar. The price for his love is high; the bruises, more often present than not, on my ass and thighs are tangible manifestations of his sometimes sadistic excesses. But at the same time, no one has stood by me, loved me, and defended me with such vehemence. I often wonder at my ability to fear him and to trust him at the same time.
I glance at my watch and it holds me spellbound. I don’t know why I wait for precisely four thirty to arrive. I guess I’m so used to following Dar’s directives that I don’t even consider how he’d never know if I jumped the gun by ten minutes. So I sit there taking the occasional sip of tequila and fixating on willing the thin silver hands to rotate. Finally, the time arrives and I slide a long cranberry lacquered fingernail under the flap, remove the sheet of Dar’s cream-colored stationery, and read the first line. Written in his small, precise handwriting, the first sentence tells me to read and complete each instruction before going on to the next. I feel a familiar tingle between my thighs at the thought of what looks like a long and drawn out evening.
1) Use the enclosed card key and let yourself into room 1215
.
 
I laugh to myself, thinking he should have penned a little stop sign, like those at the end of each section of standardized tests, after each line. It makes me smile as I head for the elevator. My gaiety is short-lived; the elevator goes directly to twelve and opens. I’m nervous as I make my way down the narrow hallway illuminated only by small sconces and glowing portholelike lights on each door. Room 1215 looms in front of me and with a mix of excitement and trepidation, I slide the card into the door, then hear a soft click before a pinpoint of green light announces that I may enter. The room has a cool elegance. It’s sparsely though expensively furnished in cool tones of metallic gray and rich cream. Decadent linens cover the bed, which is made to look as though it belongs on a cruise ship and can be folded back into the wall. I have no baggage, only my coat and handbag, nothing to busy myself with. I hang up my coat, take the letter out of my bag, and place my purse on the closet shelf. I don’t bother to sit before I read the next directive.
2) There’s a bottle of Laphroaig on the credenza. Pour two tumblers and set them on the round glass table.
 
Two glasses of whiskey? My heart is thumping harder than ever. I put my hand on top of my breast, feeling the persistent rhythm against my palm and keeping it there until it slows. Dar knows one of my fantasies has been to be double penetrated by him and another man, but Dar, though he’s had his share of kinky three- and more-somes with casual girlfriends, has never shared anyone he cared about deeply. As I pour the amber liquid into the two glasses, inhaling the heavy peaty aroma, I think how Dar has more than satisfied me sexually, awakening a deep and darkly masochistic side of my personality. While I am not submissive in general, I am submissive to him. In the midst of the tidal wave of passion and sadism that is Dar, I never gave much thought to actualizing this particular fantasy. And with Dar’s jealousy, an emotion that has been known to stir up his profound capacity for cruelty, I worry that perhaps it would be best for all concerned to let it go unrealized. A threesome would explain why I am in this hotel room. This is something Dar would not want left to linger among the ghosts that haunt his home. It makes sense to do this here, in a place we can leave behind, abandoning any specters when we close the door behind us. I force myself to stop predicting, stop thinking, and look at the next line.
3) Strip to your bra and panties.
 
I quickly remove my dress and hang it up neatly in the closet, eager to get to the next instruction. Though I haven’t read ahead, I’ve seen only a few more are left to go and then I’ll be in Dar’s arms. I can’t wait. It may not be a warm embrace, I may be dealing with him in his cool and methodical mood, but to me just being in his presence is calming. Contradictions abound; with Dar I feel a deep inner peace even when I am at my most apprehensive. With Dar there are only extremes: I love him or I hate him, I feel safe or frightened; often I feel these emotions at the same time. What is a constant is my fathomless trust in him. I have a premonition I will be dipping into that well of faith tonight.
4) In the dresser drawer there is a blindfold and two sets of handcuffs. Bring them to the table. Sit in the middle seat.
 
I find the items just as he said; a thick black blindfold and two sets of steel handcuffs. My body feels as if it’s vibrating, the way a kitten hums as it purrs contentedly in your arms, my cunt clenching as I hold the cold metal in my hands. I think how tight and unforgiving they’ll feel wrapped around my wrists, and wonder if I’ll be struggling so that they’ll dig into and bruise my thin, delicate flesh. I sit down, my thighs feeling chilled against the frigid aluminum seat, realizing for the first time how cool the room is and knowing that Dar must have turned down the heat. My trembling excites him, be it from the cold or from uncertainty or from fear. I swallow hard, attempting to dislodge the lump in my throat, as I read his final instruction.
5) At 5:00, put on the blindfold, put a set of handcuffs around both wrists, and secure your left arm to the back rail of the chair. Wait.
 
He knows I hate this, that it’s not safe to leave me restrained alone, that it will kick in my tendency to panic as my mind turns over all the horrific things that might happen, being in so vulnerable a position. Being in a hotel makes it worse, less predictable. Anyone could walk in. Being scared makes me wet; no one knows that better than Dar.
I know I don’t have to do this but I also know that I will. The wetness soaking through my panties and glazing my inner thighs is evidence of how aroused I am despite my nerves. Looking at my watch, I see I only have five minutes to wait. With each minute, my anxiety escalates, and I’m not even restrained yet. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat and force myself to tear my eyes away from my watch. Whatever buzz I had from the drink is gone. Adrenaline flows through my body as I finally settle the blindfold over my eyes, making sure the handcuffs will be easy to reach once my sight is gone. The only noise in the room, the ratcheting sound of the cuffs tightening, competes with the sound of rushing blood in my head.
I don’t wait long. Moments later, I hear a card slide into the door and the handle turns. “Hello, pet,” he says simply. I reply in the same simple fashion, so nervous and agitated that even saying two words is a struggle. I listen hard to determine if there is anyone else in the room with him, but the thick carpet successfully muffles any sound. I jump when I feel his hand brush my cheek.
“Nervous, pet?” he queries.
“Yes, Dar,” I whisper.
“Good,” he replies. In my mind I can see the smirk on his handsome face. “You won’t be seeing tonight, Tess, at least not until our guest leaves.”
My free arm involuntarily covers my breasts at this confirmation that he isn’t alone. I squeeze my thighs tightly together in an attempt to subdue the ache in my cunt. Nothing escapes his notice. He pulls my arm away and with a click of the metal sliding home I am utterly helpless.
“Excites you, doesn’t it, my beautiful little bitch? Being so helpless, knowing we can do what we will with you?”
Oh, god—we
. “Yes.”
His breath is hot on my neck. Is it his breath, I suddenly wonder, as I feel him lock the other set of cuffs to the chair?
“I’m giving you what you want tonight, Tess. I’ll be buried deep in your ass and another cock will be in that tight, hot cunt of yours. Of course, it will be my way, my rules. You will never know who it is touching you, whose cock you’re gagging on. Does that suit you?”
I nod my head; my throat feels too dry to answer. Suddenly, warmth spreads through my face as his palm connects hard with my cheek.
“Answer me, bitch.”
“Daray, please, please just tell me…” I start, beginning to panic at the thought that he might have invited a stranger. It disturbs me so much I use his full name to get his attention. I’ve always imagined this scene happening naturally, the result of an evening of comfortable companionship among friends and maybe a bit too much alcohol.
He reads my mind, he always does. How he does it I’ll never know. I wish I could look into his eyes and see his thoughts with a modicum of the success he has at deciphering mine. As he leans into me, I picture him bending his long, muscular frame over the back of the chair as his rough cheek is pressed to my smooth, heated face. “Do you think I’d allow a stranger to touch you, pet? Tsk. Now be a good girl, no more questions.”
“Have a seat,” he says to the hushed presence.
Glasses clink as I picture them sitting there. Are they looking at me, appraising me? Are they ignoring me, content to sip their whiskey in silence? Time loses meaning and I begin to fidget in my seat. It might have been five minutes or twenty when I feel the chair being pushed back away from the table and strong hands roughly pull my breasts from my bra. I gasp and Dar quiets me. Warm liquid spills from my shoulders, over my breasts, down my belly and pools on the aluminum seat, mingling with the slick fluid that coats my sex and thighs. My senses are overwhelmed by the intense smoky aroma when a tongue starts to lick my neck slowly, so damn slowly, making its way down the gentle slope of my breast. My nipple is sucked into a hot mouth. Whose, I wonder? Then it doesn’t matter as I feel the heat of another tongue following the same erotic path on the other side. My head rolls back as I revel in this decadent sensation. Teeth bite into one nipple, pulling and stretching it while the other mouth remains soft and supple on my breast. The conflicting sensations keep me even more on edge. I feel intoxicated as both tongues begin to move down my sides and lap up the liquid that has accumulated in the crease of my thighs. Teeth bite into the tender flesh of my inner thigh. The heat of a tongue pressed against the sheer scrap of fabric that barely covers my pussy makes me push myself greedily against whoever’s mouth it is. I realize I don’t care—I just don’t want it to stop.
I lose the attention of one mouth as the handcuffs that restrain me are removed. I know the mouth that continues to press against my cunt isn’t Dar’s. Only Dar would have the keys.
Oh, god, oh, god
, I think, too lost in these moments to worry about Dar’s reaction. Whatever will be will be as long as I continue to surrender myself to Dar and the moment. I’m pulled up from my seat, my bra removed, panties slid down my thighs until they puddle at my ankles.
“Step out,” Dar says.
I do and I’m naked in front of my lover and this mysterious male presence. Given a moment to think, I wonder who this could be. I don’t wonder for long. I’m pushed back onto the corner of the bed. Placed so that my cunt is available at one end and my head hangs off the other side. A cock is at my lips and I open eagerly to take it in. A male groan fills the room as it slides over my lips, into the velvety softness of my mouth, and down my throat. Hands spread my legs farther. I feel like a plaything, having no say in what gets done to me, a feeling I’m not sure I enjoy on a conscious level but here, now, while my clit is sucked into that mouth, pulled at, bitten, coaxed out of hiding, until it feels twice its normal size, and a rigid cock is fucking my face, there is no right and wrong, only pleasure. Sensations that carry me away until I feel myself slide over the edge and I’m bucking wildly against the face between my thighs, wanting to scream as I come but unable to because that cock is relentlessly pumping into my open mouth.
I want to know who is where but the silence of the men, except for grunts and moans, makes it impossible. Dar only talks when he wants me to know precisely where he is. I hope at one point he’ll slip up but given his amazing level of self-control, I know that’s unlikely. It seems the other man has taken a temporary vow of silence. Suddenly my mouth is empty; a hand surrounds my narrow wrist and pulls me into position.
I’m on top of someone. He lies flat underneath me and I think of letting my hands run down along his belly, wondering if that would give me an indication of who I am on top of. Before I can do anything, someone is behind me, his erect cock pressed against my ass. Hands are everywhere—alternately squeezing then slapping my breasts, spreading my ass. Fingers slide into my cunt and my ass, hands entwine in my hair. I’m floating yet grounded as the cock that is to claim my cunt impales me, taking my breath away for a moment. “Oh, fuck, oh, god, yes,” I hear myself say and then I go silent as cool liquid is poured on and rubbed into my asshole.
“Relax, pet,” Dar whispers into my ear. I’m comforted to know it’s him behind me, his magnificent cock about to slide into my ass. Dar is big and thick, and the cock in my pussy now feels much the same; it fills me completely, making it hard to imagine it possible to have another cock inside me, even in another hole, at the same time.

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