No doubt relishing my impaired state, he must also love his ruse. He said little scams always satisfied more if he first taunted me with snippets of information I could later piece together. He’d spun the fable about the blinds and innocently showed me the features on his new camera.
I mused over these puzzle pieces, struggling to pull myself onto the bed. Claiming the Manhattan skyline sometimes bothered his eyes, he extolled the necessity of shutters for better sleep. Realizing that I’d never seen him unable to sleep, I snorted.
‘But then,’ my mind crooned, ‘every time you’ve seem him sleep you have always just fucked him within an inch of your life.’
There’d been more, too, not all so direct. Conversely, he’d charmed me with his display of the video camera’s direct to TV capability by a real-time screening of the pigeons on his roof. Their cooing and rustle of wings soothed me, minor spectacle enjoyed from the comfort of his unpretentious sofa. Iridescent feathers improved the cloudy daylight as the flock moved about. It made a pleasant distraction to his newspaper that lazy Sunday morning.
I recalled how whistling from the kitchen made that day decidedly less gloomy. Delicious aromas heightened AM hunger. Soon we ate a breakfast of crispy bacon and his signature crepes smothered in strawberry sauce. I’d all ready sampled some of the homemade whipped cream off of his lustrous skin earlier that morning. Ransacking his refrigerator as he slumbered, I had come back to bed. Waking properly, he acted incensed at my raid. Animated caricature of protest soon fell silent when I distributed two dollops onto the tips of my breasts. I tingled at that memory.
“I thought the cherries were meant to go on top of the whipping cream, not the other way around. But then again, these are more like strawberries, so pink and plump,” he argued with himself comically before sucking the topping off.
And there was the night vision demonstration another time. We’d walked the park after dark, filming feral cats and foraging raccoons. Their presence had been customary during childhood summers on an upstate farm; I got a revealing look at the familiar critters in this urban setting. He’d known I was a sucker for animals, both agreeing they had more of what we laughingly call “Humanity.” They certainly didn’t treat others like the majority of people.
Still in the dark I thought of how he treated me. Rolling over, my effort caused the constraints to ratchet maliciously tighter behind my back. I found the blinking light of the camera and spread my legs to it.
“Your cum is starting to slide down my ass,” I said in a sultry voice, trying to provoke his return. “That dirty cock of yours needs me more than I need it. You can jerk off, or you can have this.”
Murmuring various enticements, I lifted my hips toward that winking little beam. Exposing myself ever further, I tilted my pelvis and spread legs wide. Defiantly I derided him.
“You couldn’t even have me if you hadn’t shackled me to your lousy bed. You call me a dog sometimes because that’s all you could get before you lured me here.”
Struggling at my bonds helplessly, I found my brain responding to the sensory depravation by magnifying the aches settling in major muscles. I fidgeted still more with the rising awareness.
When he did come back, he lifted the camera from its stand so he could hold it close to see me in the blackness. He picked up the leash. Off the bed and kneeling at his will, I heard it rasp across the sheets. And he had lubricant, audible pop of the top informing me. After a long moment the cold liquid dripped onto my backside. Still sightless, I felt the fluid slither down the crevice of my posterior. It seemed to be the only occurrence in the whole universe.
Legs loose and watery, I rested upper body on the bed to support my weight. He snaked the oiled handle slowly within the dark reaches of my behind, powering past sphincter’s resistance. I found myself philosophically unable to pull away from the punishment.
‘How is he holding the camera?’ I pondered crazily, ‘I know he’ll want this on film. At least it’s skinnier than his dick.’
Wildly fragmented considerations choked out another strangled chortle. Hearing it, he asked if I had something to say. He waited for me to signal a stop. I offered nothing but a high pitched whine. Braided cable penetrated past the handle and the supple span made him toil harder. His fingernails pinched viciously as he labored. My bleating amplified with the stunning misery, conscious thought fleeing. I found divinity in the decadent spoilage of corporeal being.
He finally seemed satisfied with his feat and I felt him move to the bed, leaving me violated. Chain jerked hard caused the cuffs to bite into my hands as the links raced up my spine. I groaned loudly, shoulders straining. There was no expression on my face as I waited for his next exhibition of authority. I could hardly stand it, trying to intuit the next fiendish act in this play. The fiery ache in my rectum centered all attention.
“Suck me hard,” he said.
Sleek legs suddenly squeezed my sides painfully. Taking away my breath, he pushed my face to his crotch. The thick span of his penis slapped me as he pushed it up by the base. I eagerly took the soft skin of his semi hard member between my lips, tasting myself.
“Looks like my pet grew a tail.”
Smirk evident in his voice, callous jeer rippled over me in a warm exhalation. I concentrated on breathing, respiration noisy through my nose. He tugged my head up with a handful of hair and stood. I landed on my heels balanced precariously. There was a brief pause before the click of the latch, so I knew he replaced the camera to its former perch. I sneered toward it, over my shoulder, and shook my hips, agonizingly lashing my “tail.” I sensed him, sitting in his recliner, idly squeezing his erection as he watched me. Biding his time, he likely sipped a glass of wine or perhaps some juice. I made a show of acting bored this time, even sighing like I had somewhere else I’d rather be.
My ploy worked and the door burst open. Light flooded the room as he hit the overhead switch. God help me, hurtful light blessedly relieved the disorienting dark. There had not existed so much as a glowing clock face, only that evil red wink. I’m sure he switched his camera over from night vision. But I still adjusted to the brightness and he seemed instantly upon me. I considered that he would make me suck him again, tormenting me with the absence of him inside my pussy.
Handcuffs came off and, blinking rapidly in disbelief, I flexed my arms and rubbed my shoulders for a moment. He lifted me and wrapped my legs about his waist, lowering me firmly onto his cock. I held on tight, arms around his neck. Splayed hands pressed to my back for support, he stepped back to lie on the bed. Directing me not to move, he arched up into me smoothly, making me even more aware of the foreign object with which he sodomized me. One strong hand gripped my chain.
“Turn around,” he directed.
I couldn’t keep my fixation from his sensual lips as I rose up. I carefully gathered my artificial appendage, wincing as it moved within. It was a mystery to me how so many people found this pleasurable. Of course I’d received no preparation. Suffering fulfilled me like no other bedroom activity.
Feet near his shoulders, I held his calves. His length filled me and my wetness spread further over him with the new angle. The black leather strip draped across his stomach in stark contrast to his luminous skin. My breath caught.
But then he tugged on the leash and the air exploded from my lungs. I locked my thighs against him and froze my butt high in the air.
“Good. Now, touch yourself.”
Gasping sides heaved between my ankles. He withdrew the anal penetration another fraction of an inch. I pressed hard to my responsive flesh with impatient fingers. He continued thrusting steadily, almost gently. Overwhelmed with uneven extraction from behind, I shook from head to toe. Tightened chain let me lean into my collar for mild asphyxia.
Wheezing, I came again and again. Handle pulling out at long last, reedy growls rose to a scream upon expulsion. Still he fucked me, his erection fading. I folded my torso over his legs, completed by all that had transpired.
It signaled the end for now. He helped my clumsy fingers release silver buckles. Noting he’d had nothing left for his own orgasm, I extricated myself and expressed my regret. He disclosed to me that he didn’t care.
“It would just have distracted me from really appreciating what I was doing for you,” he said. “It was glorious.”
Wholeheartedly of the same opinion, I nodded groggily in satisfied stupor. We settled side by side snuggling in messy covers.
To be continued...
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