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Presents
Dark Eden Copyright 2005 by Rene.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. This material is presented as adult entertainment and is not intended for any person under the age of eighteen years. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the author assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein. All characters and descriptions are purely fictitious.
WAGE WHORE
Work had a new luster. Bob had no power to ruffle me, much to his irritation. What the Hell could he do to me? Fire me? Right, I'd love to make 80% of my wage to sit at home and write for a year and a half. My workload seemed to be a breeze and handled fairly easily. It was almost a treat to be there I felt so good. Relaxed and very satisfied. The delicate pull of my muscles and my various bruises almost a delight. An undertone to the buzz of sexual energy that floated around me in, what I thought was an invisible cloud. It wasn't. Janie noticed it. At about 3:30 PM the curiosity got the better of her and she came over to me. My usually messy desk was clean. She grinned when she sat on the edge of my desk.
"You had a good weekend."
I shrugged, grinning back at her.
"In fact, you had the best weekend that you've had in a long time, maybe years."
Her face was alight with the radiance of knowledge. She knew what I had done, just not the details.
"Jesus, Janie. Why do you say that?"
"Don't be dense. You got laid. Want to tell me about it?"
I shook my head. I somehow didn't think that she would understand. I could just see her face if I looked her in the eye and said; ` You're right. I was tied up and beaten all weekend.' I knew she wouldn't understand. Not at all. I had no one to tell. The thing was that I didn't know if that was good or bad. I let Janie stew. She was sure that I would eventually tell her all, so I let her think it. Trying to come up with some suitably vanilla lie about my weekend. Already I was insulating my life in a cloak of deception. What would it do to me in the long run? Something to think about.
THIS IS MY LIFE
At six p.m. sharp, my doorbell rang. I answered it, but I didn't want too. He looked different in jeans, more luscious. If that was possible. His hair hung free to his shoulders in shaggy waves. The exact same shade as his sweater. Dark chocolate. Nice.
"Come here." He ordered as he came into the room.
I looked up at him boldly. This was my place. My world. Not theirs. I didn't even care that I would probably pay for this little act of rebellion this weekend. I still did it.
"Why are you here, Adam?"
He was surprised at my tone, but he hid it well. His eyes smiling down into mine.
"Because Jon said that I could take you out to dinner."
I relaxed a bit.
"He also said that we could do what we wanted to do."
We, not just him. I eased up.
"This is my world. Nobody ever told me that I would have to share beyond the weekend."
I sounded angry and a little bit petulant. Not a good combination. He went over to my kitchen and sat in one of my chairs.
"You're angry at me."
"Like to beat the hell out of you." I said frostily.
He grinned broadly.
"I will, of course, place myself at your tender mercies."
His voice lowered seductively and he looked up at me through his lashes. I couldn't help it. I laughed.
"Not mad, anymore?"
"No."
I sat down across from him.
"Dinner, Huh?"
He nodded, leaning back in the chair.
"Okay. I'll pick the place and welcome to my world."
I went to change from my work clothes into jeans.
It was a good night. Not to cold. A full heavy moon in a clear nighttime sky. Werewolf weather. My kind of weather. I took him to the Oyster Bar in the district. It was a nice place, cozy. The fact that I ate there almost every week, made it home territory. The owner knew me. A Creole from New Orleans, black as night, named Alain. Dinner was as usual, fabulous. Conversation, stilted until Adam asked.
"You don't really like men much, do you?"
He appeared really interested in the answer, looking at me with the same intensity with which he studied me during a scene.
"They're good for some things." I quipped back and realized that sex was not what he meant. "I wish that all men could be female for just one day. See what it's like."
"What is it like?"
He seemed genuinely interested so I told him.
"It's a waking paradox."
He didn't get that at all, so I explained.
"If I get angry, I'm PMS. If I'm assertive, I'm a bitch. If I'm nice, I'm weak. That's the paradox."
He was smiling, now he understood.
"Now, you get it. If you're assertive, you have leadership potential. Angry, someone pissed you off. Gee, what a nice guy you are. It's not just work either."
Adam had snagged the check when it came, before I could even put out my hand for it. Automatically. I leaned back in the chair and finished my wine.
"I was top of my class, Mensa in High school. I was hired a level below a man with no degree and less sense. I married a man who beat me because he could do it. I was physically weaker than he was. So he took advantage of that."
"How long did you stay?"
"About eight months."
"I'm sorry." He said and I asked him why he was sorry.
"Because emotional scars are the hardest to heal."
True enough.
"If you could do whatever you wanted to him, to cleanse his memory, what would you do?"
My eyes hardened as they met his. A pure gleam of sadism lighting their depths and darkening them.
"Top him."
He chuckled at that.
"But that would make me as bad as he was." I sighed. "Maybe I'll just stay the way I am for awhile."
"Happy?" He said, smiling.
"Satisfied with my life. Nice balance between the weekends and work. It's been a long time since I've opened my self to any kind of new experience."
"Well, honey. You've gone all out this time." I laughed out loud. "There's a nice leather store in this town. Feel like shopping?"
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Shopping for what?"
He laid some bills on the check and grinned up at me.
"Jon told me to take you shopping. His money and get you some costumes."
His teeth peeked out at me and he cocked his head.
"It'll be fun. Jon's money."
Baiting me.
"Ahh, the way to a woman's heart." I shot back at him, but we did leave the restaurant and we did go shopping. "So you answered an ad in the Times?" He asked me with a laugh.
Although why that little tidbit cracked him up. I'll never know.
"And you were gone for the weekend, so they had nothing better to do but me."
He whistled in appreciation.
"That took a lot of guts."
"Not guts, Terror."
He waited for me to continue.
"I felt like if I didn't do something... I was going to explode. I'd spent six years with just myself. All I could think about was sex. I fantasized about every man I came in contact with. It was driving me crazy. I was at a point in my life where I was truly dangerous to myself."
He nodded as though he understood.
"I got that way after my divorce." He remarked absently looking into the store windows at the avante garde goods displayed in the windows. "I lucked into Jon and Traci."
"How did you meet them?" I inquired, very curious now.
He told me.
ADAM'S STORY
"I was 28 and newly divorced. My wife had found my magazines and labeled me some kind of sick bastard. She kicked me out. No desire to play the game or even understand why I was the way I was."
There was a bench on the corner so we sat on that while he talked.
"So there I was trying to get back into the singles scene when I came across an ad for a party at Talon. A B/D party. Come one, come all."
"Urban Times?" I teased him laughing at the look in his eyes. "Yes, You naughty girl. So I went."
His face softened as he remembered the desperation. The undeniable need that forced him to seek out what he needed.
"I was dazzled, just walking through the door. I had never in my life seen anyplace with so much raw sexual energy. This place was a wet dream. I got hard walking in the door, and stayed that way all night long."
I could just imagine that and laughed.
"On you, that's like putting up a billboard on the boulevard."
He blushed hotly, very nicely in my book.
"Anyways...I did attract a certain amount of attention, and then Traci approached me"
"They go to those things?"
That kind of surprised me.
"Sometimes to look for raw talent. She was real. In this room full of fantasy. She shone like the sun."
I could see that.
"She kept me with her by asking questions and really listening to the answers I gave her. She asked about my life, my childhood. Before I knew it the party was over and I was following her home."
He stood up as though uncomfortable with the intimacy of the memories.
"I've been with them ever since. I'm contracted for two more years. That was my missing weekend. I was deciding what to do."
"And?"
His eyes met mine. Intense. Serious.
"And... I get to live my fantasies. I also get to abuse lovely slaves such as you on a regular basis."
He took my hand.
"Even when they become disgruntled with my interfering in their daily life."
I squeezed his warm fingers with a smile. I squeezed his warm fingers with a smile. We were near the leather store and we went inside. He sighed, and spoke again. He spoke calmly.
"It started before then though."
His face going into the past.
GOLDEN BOY
I was 10 years old, when I discovered why God had given me a penis...15 years old, when I first put it into a woman. 29 years old, when I first put it into a man, and 32 years old when I entered the world of Sado-masochism as more than a dream.
Busy life. In between I married, graduated college and divorced in that order. Sado-masochism was the reason I lost my wife, Phoebe. It was also the reason that I didn't care. In order to truly understand my life I have to start back when I was ten. It was then that I got my first erection. I was reading a forbidden book on men in prison during a family vacation. A novel filled with the rough imaginings of a fairly popular author, writing under a pseudonym. No matter, my Dad confiscated the book after thumbing through it and finding that "God-damn, Gay-shit" in it. Not the kind of thing that he wanted in the hands of his impressionable ten-year-old son. Too late, Dad. It had been committed to memory already. The most vivid parts were both the rape scenes. The one that landed the hero in prison, and the one that taught him how it felt to be raped. Porn with a message. It was a toss-up which one made my penis harder when I read it. It didn't really matter the effect was the same. I had my first orgasm in the men's toilet at the local Christian family campground. Didn't get caught either.
I got a lot of mileage out of both of those fantasies. It always amazed me that sometime during those active teenage years, my parents didn't find a smiling dehydrated husk in my bed one fine school morning. They never did though. I learned slowly that not all of my friends were as sexually precocious as I was, but I figured that being ahead of this game was not necessarily a bad thing. It encouraged me to develop above average reading skills, which astonished my teachers, and made me something of a golden boy in the classroom.
I started spending most of my free time in the Library, public, and reading books that I had found in the card catalogue that fired my imagination. When I wasn't playing on the football team. I was Captain. Hey, it's not all about screwing cheerleaders, but it is incentive. The captain has to plan the plays in his head, and I could do that, so Captain. I liked the library better. I read all kinds of books. On-Pirates, Cops, Human Sacrifice, Torture, medical texts. Anything that I could find. I wandered around the subject catalogue until I could cross-reference in my sleep any subject they had in there. I was cruising the women's section and discovered a book on orgasms for women, and got the best advice about the opposite sex that I ever got anywhere. A satisfied woman comes back for more. That was even a concept that we were learning about in school. Supply and demand. Very logical. I wanted women, and they wanted the same pleasure that I wanted. I decided to study the mechanics as hard as I could so I would know how, if I ever did get laid, I could pleasure a girl. I'll say this about them. They have weird plumbing. They bleed once a month for God's sake. A very odd, but nice, set-up in my book. I learned more about the female body than I knew about my own. Sniggering to myself in the classroom when the cute little cartoon sperm, slid into that smiling egg in the health and hygiene films. The science texts were much more accurate and much less puerile than those films.
When I turned fifteen, or a bit after, my father had me cleaning out the garage. I found a box of old books, and went through them before throwing them away. In it I found the Joy of Sex I and II. I hid the books, and took them upstairs with me to hide them where I could easily read them. I pored over them. I know I wasn't the only kid in that era to read those forbidden books, but I know that I was the only one I knew to commit sections to memory. I felt that I was ready to get rid of my virginity, but didn't have any idea about how to lose it. At fifteen, I was tall with gangly arms and legs. Seriously academic, and a Jock to boot. I was just too...whatever to have girls from school floating around me, and the ones that did. Well, I had more experience then they did.
It was then that I met Gina in the Library. Older, she was twenty, with thick dark hair and a big chest. Just a bit mysterious with her flowery skirts, and denim hat. Eyes as black as ink and fathomless. We both seemed to be spending Saturday night at the library at any rate, so we started to talk to each other. We became friends. She was one of those magically gentle people that listen with their whole bodies when others talk to them. She seemed to hear every nuance of what I said, and not to judge my opinions, beyond a gentle laugh every once in a while. I told her things that I didn't dare tell my parents about myself, until one night we ended up talking about... you know what. She folded her hands serenely and listened to my breathless thoughts to their completion and then took my hand. Her dark hair falling into her face, obscuring it.
"Come on."
She led me out to her car, a shitty green Nova, and drove me to her place.
She had her own apartment, which I thought was too cool. Filled with books on history and art. No T.V. She left me sitting on the half broken couch to go into the kitchen and get some drinks. Coming back with two cans of Coke. She sat facing me from one end of the couch, her eyes studying me with an intense almost amused tolerance. She curled her legs up between us, and said.
"Now, tell me again what you want from a woman."
I stammered a bit, and she listened patiently. Telling me that women like to be talked too and not treated like a side of beef. She sipped the coke, and seemed to come to some kind of a decision. She slid closer to me, so that I could smell the salt of her skin. Silky, smoky. The breath of her body from less than a foot from me. My glands went into over-drive and I got immediately hard. Embarrassingly hard.
"I should go."
She smiled and took one of my hands, putting it on her breast. Hyper-drive. My penis became a painful mass of feeling between my legs, and my pulse raced like I had run a mile.
"I would like you to stay."
She said it in my ear, not letting me choose really just taking me into her room. Sitting me on the bed, and turning off the lights, so the room was enclosed in a womb of darkness.
"What time do you have to be home?" She asked,
I told her midnight. My voice quavering and breathless. I heard her moving around in the dark, and waited with my hands between my legs, trying to control the pulsing heat that grew with every second. I lost it though. My penis was definitely doing my thinking for me. Somewhere between the bedroom and the living room. The little genius had crept up my neck, into my head and taken over my brain. The only question I had really, because my penis was doing a fine job so far, was if I should take off my clothes. I heard her walking over to me, and did not resist when she stood me up and started to take my clothes from me slowly. The pullover sweater, the jeans, socks, shoes, and underwear. All under the cover of this warm velvet darkness. Sitting me back down on the edge of the bed, and going to her knees before me.
"You're not scared, are you?"
The words were like hot caramel in the night.
"No."
My voice sounded breathlessly young to me, but I was not scared. I was too excited to be scared. Gina leaned over my lap. Her hair trailing over my thighs. She took my organ into her wet, warm mouth, going to the very root, and I exploded. Jetting a heavy stream of fluid into her throat in about a second flat. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I fell back unto the bed, gasping with reaction. Gina didn't stop though. She lay down beside me and explored me with her hands as I caught my breath. Gently teasing me until I felt ready to participate in the action.
"I'm sorry..."
She shushed me, telling me that she had done it on purpose so I could relax, and that I could touch her if I wanted too. All the wonderful things that I had heard in my fevered imagination for the last five years. I let myself go, and put my fingers into the magic place that I had studied for so long. Feeling the hardness coming back up between my legs, as her drenched sex opened and enfolded my fingers in their silky sheathing. She moaned when I went into her, putting her hand over mine and guiding me to her pleasure spots. Whispering the names, and places that I touched in a softly breathless voice. Telling me that was good, and not so hard, and deeper. In breathless whispered instruction. I touched her breast with my other hand, teasing the tips slowly. Laying my whole hand over the pliant orb and squeezing it lightly. Her whole body melted under my touch, and I felt the power of sex flowing through my body. I touched her skin in my innocence, feeling the texture of the different places. Face, neck, shoulders, legs, and stomach. Always returning to that secretly damp and musky orifice that captured me surely. Finding that hard little button of feeling after each foray away, to memorize the place with my fingertips. Gina yielded to me, holding nothing back, no emotion, or sound. Everything I did to her elicited some honest natural response from good to okay. Kissing me deeply when I became engrossed, and tasting of sex and semen and Coke. Luscious. Open-mouthed, tongues twining. Perfect. When I finally whispered that I wanted to be inside her. She rolled the condom over my organ, and used her delicate gentle fingers to guide me into her deep well.
She sighed when I was all the way into her sex. The barest breath of sound in the air. Putting her hands on my hips to teach me the rhythm. The same dampened cavern that had so welcomed my nervous fingers, accepted completely, my unrelenting manhood. There is no way really to describe the feel of her under me. The soft ridged tunnel, caressing the length of my virgin sex for the first time. The muscles of her cleft, holding me. Enfolding me completely, reluctant to let me go. The tight rubber casing, maddening me, a friction all its own. I moved jerkily, unsurely. Gina always bringing me back to the even easy motion that is instinctive really. When she came under me, her whole body shuddering. The little mouth below, clenching with insistent force on my organ. Calling my name as she arched under my body. I realized that she was enjoying this as much as I was. Her little fingers clutched at my back, insistently. Urging me to orgasm within her. I spilled over, as caught up in the moment as she was. Collapsing on her body as the last of my passion wrenched into her sex. Thinking about nothing but how much I had enjoyed myself.
As I finished the most incredible experience of my life. I thought perhaps, that I had found something that I could be really good at, if I worked at it. Gina moved first. Going to the bathroom and getting a wet towel, then cleaning me up with it. Disposing of the protection, and curling herself against my chest. Her head on my shoulder. This made me a bit uncomfortable, but she simply laughed and said that this was the part women really liked. Not to cuddle afterwards made them feel cheap. Used. I felt the glow of Making Love fading and asked her finally, why she had done it. She hugged me closer before explaining. "Because you have the potential to be a very decent human being, and I knew that I could give you a good start. I had a good start. I owed another one to the cosmic good. I chose you."
Hard to argue with that. It was a good start.
"I wanted you to have a nice memory, not something sleazy, or embarrassing. You deserve better."
It sounded like a nice sentiment, so I enjoyed it in the spirit to which it was intended. I also enjoyed the feel of her in my arms. Nice and warm against the length of my body. Gina was an encyclopedia of sexual knowledge. Birth control, and different techniques. She let me experiment on her willing body whenever we had the free time to do it, for one magic summer. I learned quite a bit from her, before she had to go back to school. The halls of college, calling her back finally. I cried the night she left, out of grief and loss. My heart having gone to her during the endless nights we lay together. She said something to me before she was gone that I still remember to this day.
"Adam, just remember to look at more than the package when choosing someone to love. The one, who doesn't make herself visible, may be the one who is truly creative. The one truly free."
She left, and I never saw her again. I often wondered if she ever thought about me again, after she left, or was I just a boy she broke in. No, not fair really. Just some residual bitterness speaking.
As I got older I realize that she did me a favor by making the break as clean and as final as she did. I mourned and got over her with very little pain. Gina shone in my memory as the first person in my life to give me a gift, without ever expecting me to give anything back. A truly generous person. I was very lucky.
I came to the easy realization during High School that I was very good-looking. Thick dark-hair, just a bit too long. Cold green-eyes that were piercing when I was angry. Tall, broad-shouldered. Articulate. I scared the shit out of damn near everybody that didn't know me. Just because of the way I looked. The people that did know me, and knew me for the pussycat that I was, laughed at those in terror of me. Hell, I laughed too. I had it pretty good in High School, except for being teased unmercifully for my fascination with those girls that everybody knew as wallflowers. I was very popular at school. I seemed to come to the conclusion early that I was someplace magical. A situation that I would never have again. That at no other time in my life would I get to deal with as many people as I did on a daily basis as I did in high school. I treasured the time I had there. Enjoying the people that I met, and talked too. Enjoyed the Football games and the homecoming dances. I didn't lose my heart, though, until senior year. That was the year that I met, Phoebe. Phoebe was a girl from the cheerleader squad. Quiet and serious. A tiny woman with large dark eyes that looked almost puppyish. She never raised them to talk to me, but I knew what they looked like. They were liquid pools of night shining from her perfectly heart-shaped face. I fell for her so hard I could barely think straight around her. I became a stammering mess, when she looked at me. Barely able to speak. All I could do was gaze at her. I followed her around for almost a month before she said that she would go out with me. Two months before she let me kiss her for the first time, and three before she burst into tears when I touched her breast because I didn't `respect her.' Took me all night to calm her down, and I had to promise a hundred times to never try anything like that ever again, before she would agree to keep seeing me. I promised, but I also tried everything I could think of to get into her pants, all to no avail. She wanted to be a virgin on her wedding night, and by all that was holy, she was going to do it. Will of steel, on that point. In my adolescent insistence, I figured I could bring her around, so I waited. Doing the school thing. Part-time job, games, dances. Escorting her to these things, and giving her my high school class ring so she would be my girl. It was like that all year, and all summer. After Graduation, I started College locally, because my parents couldn't afford to send me away to anyplace else. They near bankrupted themselves to give me the four years that I would need to make a good start in life, as it was. Always, Phoebe was around me. The thought of her inflaming me. Her quiet voice, and downcast eyes. The silly things she said, and the small little dreams that she had for her life. I thought her perfect. Demure, innocent, sweet. I wanted her, and she wanted marriage. I gave in to her and proposed to her in my 19th year. We planned to get married in the summer.
THE BACHELOR PARTY
My college buddies were a great bunch of guys. The wild crowd, not me so much. I didn't like the feeling of giving up control so I was more subdued as far a partying goes. All that meant was that I was the one that usually drove them to their debauches. I did my fair share, but I was always faithful to Phoebe. A point of interest that drove my best friend, Jay, absolutely crazy. That is until the bachelor party. These guys wanted me to have one last fling before the old Ball and Chain' gig, so they got me a professional. Not only that, but the hotel room to go with it. I was having so much fun, that when they put me into the room, tied up because I had said No,' so many times in a row. I had resigned myself to my fate. No thoughts beyond feeding the fire that had been burning unrelieved for the past four years. The little guy, thinking for me again. I almost looked forward to it. Just a quick fling before matrimony to take the edge off my lust.
I didn't expect what walked into the room. A Dominatrix carrying a long leather whip. I felt my eyes go wide and my pulse go up. That's not all that came up as I looked at her. She was the exact opposite physical type from Phoebe. Tall, and lean. Pale blonde hair and icy blue-eyes. Long fingernails and strong lean legs that went up about a mile. She tapped the end of the whip against her calf and said with a smile.
"Hello, novice."
The black vinyl corset barely covering the tips of her breasts. Honey pink tips peaking from underneath the darkness. I started to speak, and she shook her head.
"No, don't. Not until I tell you too, and only when I ask you a question."
I felt my dominant maleness trying to leak out of me, in protest to being bound, helpless, and she gagged me. Leaving me lying there while she set up her stuff. Laying it out on the nightstand in a little row. Lubricant, some bead-things, and condoms. She laid out a pair of shorts, and a shirt. My clothes, I noticed, before she took a pair of scissors to what I was wearing, leaving me naked on the bed. I struggled.
"If I leave, I'll leave you tied up and naked for the maid to find in the morning. I don't think that's what you want, so just be quiet and hard and good for me. Okay?"
I nodded. She put her hand on my organ, and it hardened to granite under her fingers. "Roll over."
When I hesitated, she flipped me on her own, putting her knee into the small of my back as she re-secured my wrists together.
"I don't like to repeat myself, Adam."
She tied me to the bed, not letting me loose at all. Moving down and criss-crossing the ties on my legs. When she released me I flipped back, but my legs had been tied so I was spread-eagle. Her eyes shone with amusement, and she tightened everything down so I was spread-eagle with my hands resting in the small of my back. She took the gag off.
"I don't like this, let me up now."
She slapped me, hard. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to jar my senses. I was stunned, but my cock wasn't, it leaked with desire her fingers found my sex. . "Don't lie to me. You don't like it. You would be softer than this. If you didn't like it, so be quiet if you don't have anything intelligent to say."
I shut up.
"Your friends told me to get you off, but not damage you for your wedding night, so relax."
She took a deep breath to control herself, and backed away so she could look me over. Running her hands, and her nails, over my chest, my waist, and my legs. The whip lying on the coverlet between my thighs. She focused her entire attention on me, never faltering in her intensity. Pressing, pinching, and exploring. She met my eyes with a question and ran her hand up between my buttocks to the unexplored region behind me. Tiny pressure on the opening that clenched to prevent invasion.
"Ever had a man, college boy?"
I shook my head, speechless, but not softening. Her finger slid into me, and I twitched with the effort of trying to expel her. It only let her go deeper into my anus. All the way to the knuckle, her limber digit pressing upwards on the gland inside me. I groaned, and rolled my head. She fucked me with that one finger, slowly. Never rough or hard. Just easy in, out. Watching my face change colors with the effort of not crying out. Another finger joined the one inside me, stretching me. Her free hand taking a hold of my penis, and squeezing it in the exact cadence of her thrusting hand. I felt myself approaching orgasm, and couldn't believe that I was going to come like this. Orgasm with her one hand in my ass, and her other milking my dick. I closed my eyes to let it come, and she pulled away. Leaving me gasping with the pain of being interrupted. I rolled my head, and felt the whip strike the top of my thighs. I yelped.
"Roll over." She ordered.
I hesitated.
"I can beat your legs, or your ass. I can tell you from experience that the ass hurts less, now do what I'm telling you to do."
I did it, slowly. Reluctantly, almost not doing it.
"You are so ready to come, that if I leave you right now in this torment. You will suffer all night. I don't get off, you don't." I lay on my stomach. My penis aching between my legs and so sensitive to touch that the bedspread felt like sandpaper rubbing against it.
She put her hand on my ass, and kneaded it gently. Rubbing the hard flesh until it felt almost as sensitive as my cock. I learned later that it was to get the blood flowing to the area before the whipping so it would hurt more with less effort.
"I have ten little beads here, and I am going to put them into you."
I shook my head, no.
"Oh yes, because it will make you cum like you have never in your life cum before, and you want me too."
I suddenly felt helpless, and powerless.
"Relax into it. Just feel."
She opened my buttocks and slipped the first slippery bead into me. Murmuring softly, and slipping all ten of the beads into my ass, until I felt stuffed with them. Telling me to keep them inside me. She left me lying there for no more than a minute, before taking her whip, and hitting me with it ten times. One stroke for every bead. By the tenth blow I felt tears in my eyes. I tried to swallow them and be silent. Brave, you know? She still knew, and watched with the fascination of a cat that has caught a bird. Telling me to roll over. She stroked me gently, while she rolled a condom unto my still hard penis. Slipping out of the g-string that she was wearing to straddle me facing backwards. I have never been harder in my life, and I swelled to unbearable proportions when she slid her tight hot cunt unto my cock with a sound of deep enjoyment. The beads filling my anus with a sensation such as I had never known before. She rode my organ and leaned down. Taking the ring from the beads in her hand, she pulled one out. I groaned, as the sensation of that bead sliding from my ass awakened the soreness of my buttocks, and the need in my cock. Trying to pull my arms free, my legs straining. I felt my whole body tightening by degrees. The feeling getting deeper and more profound with the exit of each one of those slick hard beads being drawn from me by her hands.
"One more, baby. Let it come now. Come on." She ordered.
She jerked the last one from me, and came on top of me. Her head back, shoulders shaking. Fingers grabbing at my thighs as she kept working me until I too detonated under her. My jaw, like iron to keep from screaming with pleasure. Head rolling helplessly back arched from the bed. Wave after wave of the most intensely satisfying release that I had ever had. Overflowing me.
She stayed on top of me, until I was completely spent, and then stood up, shakily, to go to the bathroom. She came back with a towel. Taking the condom off, and wiping me. Including my backside, wiping off the lubricant she had put on the beads. Releasing my legs from their confinement. Letting my arms loose last so that I lay on the bed, free. Looking up at her. She went to the dresser and handed me a package from the guys. My wedding present. She watched me open it. The box filled with toys. Including another set of those magic beads. Some bondage magazines from Sweden, and a nice set of handcuffs. "Are you pissed?" She asked finally, in the heavy silence.
I sighed as I looked up at her.
"No." I said, shaking my head. "Puzzled, intrigued, horrified."
She laughed.
"Well, as long as you're not pissed."
I laughed too, and put everything back into the box, to ask her questions. She was fascinating. Being from where I was I had never in my life talked to a professional hooker before. She laughed harder.
"God, no. I do this for fun. Your friend, Jay, knows my husband. This is just for you. Your wedding present."
"You're not going to tell anybody that I liked this, are you?"
She looked a little sad, when I said it. She smiled, somberly. Kissing me, softly on the lips. Breath sweet.
"Honey, what people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms is a gift from God, not anything to be ashamed of. He invented sex, why not enjoy it?"
She left me with that thought. Sitting in the hotel bed, with a red, satisfied ass. I took a shower, and lay back down to sleep. Thinking about the intensity of my reaction to the whole thing. By the time I had fallen asleep. I had convinced myself that it was only the natural reaction of my body to four years of celibacy, not because I got off on bondage.