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by Alyssa Turner

  ‘What do you think this voice inside me is saying?’

  ‘Maybe you’ll hear it and tell me.’

  The voice is saying: Stay , but I’m not ready to let it speak out loud – not yet. Perhaps when he’s asking me to spread my legs would be a good opportunity.

  The performers are spilling thick red liquid from small carafes onto the chests of their charges. It trickles over their bodies slowly, providing a stark trail for their extended tongues to erase. I sit and imagine the feel of them. My God it’s been a long time since I’ve had a man put his mouth on me. In an unconscious move, my hand has found its way to my neck with a single finger meandering aimlessly across my collarbone.

  Archer leans into my ear, breathing his words through my hair. ‘Do you want to know what that feels like?’

  I glance sideways at him. ‘If I say yes, then surely any offer would be rescinded.’

  ‘Oh, was I offering?’ he teases and I simply raise an eyebrow at him in response.

  The show culminates with the captors climbing onto the arms of the wooden chairs and straddling the faces of the seated. Neon dildos are shoved into the open mouths of the women and the men are buried into the crotches of their latex-wrapped female partners.

  The music has risen to a crescendo, prompting radical gyrations of simulated oral sex from everyone. When a final crack of a whip from the hostess sounds, the lights go out and the spectacle is done.

  In my naïveté, I begin to clap as I think is appropriate. Archer saves me the embarrassment of being the only one, touching my wrist softly. ‘If you enjoyed it so much, why not join us for an after-party at my place?’

  ‘Is that wise? I’ve only just met you.’

  ‘Only you can answer that question. But, if it makes any difference, you’ll be my honoured guest and I’m quite sure my friends would all love to meet you.’ The invitation may seem premature, but the way it’s offered so casually, like he could care less one way or the other, makes me wonder what I’d be missing.

  His “place” is an old factory loft converted into several semi-private rooms. The largest is what you’d consider the living space with four white leather modern-style sofas and a plush area carpet. I’d followed him among a caravan of several other cars to the address and shared the industrial elevator up the two flights with some of the other invitees. In all, there were about six people relaxing on the sofas, with an assortment of martinis and wine. Archer returns from his stainless steel custom bar with a cognac for me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  ‘Thank you for coming.’

  One of the women, with a long blonde ponytail that I’m sure is not real, climbs into the lap of her neighbour. I remember her from the show as one of the performers tied to a chair on stage. In a simple tank top and jeans, she’s looking far less conspicuous and has removed the dramatic eye make-up that the female performers all sported in the club. She asks the man something and he nods.

  ‘So, Pamela, what do you do in the daylight hours?’ the woman inquires.

  I’m taken aback by the question, in light of my present company and I’m not sure if I want to divulge any information about myself.

  The man offers some clarification in response to my stark expression. ‘Don’t worry. Our daylight hours are spent quite normally. I am a chiropractor and Samantha here owns a day spa.’ He smiles warmly. ‘It’s just small talk.’

  ‘I’m an attorney,’ I say with limited enthusiasm and feeling a little like the wet rag in the group.

  ‘So is Richard,’ the man points to another, who’s dark haired, closely shaven and simply adorable. Another woman has her feet casually situated in his lap. I heard Archer call her Nicole in the elevator.

  Richard shakes my hand and says, ‘Civil rights issues mostly. Only no one would peg me to be such an upstanding citizen, judging me from my friends.’

  They all laugh, with a clear appreciation for his humour. I giggle nervously in an attempt to fit in.

  ‘Archer,’ anotherthirtyish woman says, stretching her long limbs the length of the sofa she’s claimed for herself, ‘why don’t you put this poor woman out of her misery and just tell her what we’re all here for?’

  ‘Jillian,’ he says in retort, ‘you always have to take the fun out of things, don’t you?’ The smirk on his lips is reinforced by a playful smack of her ass, followed by a soft rub in the same place.

  ‘Oh,’ I say, ‘I think I get it,’ gathering my purse ahead of the orgy I’m sure will break out any moment.

  Archer leans forward. ‘I’m sure you don’t.’ He says. Then with a shrug: ‘Go if you think you should. But stay if you really want to; because, Pamela love, you should always do exactly what you want.’ He grins. ‘Anyway, your pathetic inability to own your decisions is getting tiresome. Frankly, I’m bored with it already.’

  There’s only silence among the rest of them, and I appear to be frozen in my seat.

  ‘No comment, I see.’ He sighs. ‘Well, perhaps you’d like me to make it easy for you.’ He gets up for a minute and I watch him return with a clear Lucite chair from the dining area. ‘Sit here.’ He directs and I do. His hands are chilly on my ankles as he’s running them around the delicate bones there. ‘Maybe you’d prefer if it wasn’t your decision to stay after all. Perhaps it’s better if I make it for you.’ He’s reached a hand out to receive the assortment of restraints Jillian has offered. ‘Can you at least admit that, Pamela? Do you want me to make the decision for you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He’s begun to tie my ankles to the legs of the chair and I’m letting him, feeling the heat rise at my core. ‘That’s enough for now,’ he says. ‘You are free from all responsibility for staying. I’ve made you stay.’ Then with a cock of his head, he continues, ‘Of course, you are able to untie the bindings I’ve put you in and walk out of here at any moment.’

  ‘Or?’ I ask with bravado.

  ‘Or, you could let yourself be my responsibility – let me make all the decisions.’

  ‘Decisions about what?’

  ‘About what you get to see, what you get to have ... what you don’t get to have.’ He takes the last piece of satin and ties it over my eyes. Positioned at my ear, while he secures it, he whispers, ‘Pamela, I promise that you will be begging for more by the time we are finished.’

  I’ll admit that I’m more intrigued than frightened about what he means by that. After all, it’s exactly what I asked for. And if the effect was to be genuine, it couldn’t be my idea. To make me want more, he’d have to be in control. The realisation comes wafting through me as I feel the first pass of his hand over my hair in a long stroke. I want him to be in control.

  ‘Kyle,’ he says sharply. ‘Will you let Samantha come to play with us?’

  ‘For a little while.’

  It’s not long before I feel another set of hands on me. They are delicate and small on my legs compared to the definitive way Archer strokes my hair. I feel as if he is standing behind me, while Samantha has taken a place on the soft pile of the rug. Suddenly he twists my hair around his fist and pulls my head back. The surprise has made me gasp, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s as if he knows the limit to just how much pressure he should apply.

  ‘Kyle, what should she do to her?’ Archer asks.

  ‘I want her to taste that creamy skin of hers. Samantha was asking me to let her have a taste all the way here. Weren’t you, sweetie?’

  There’s no answer, and I can only assume that she’s nodded yes, because instantly her soft, wet dabbles are felt on my skin. She’s begun with my legs, bare to the knee under my designer wrap dress. They are gentle and sweet in contrast to the firm hold Archer has on my hair. I’m already cooing from the feel of them travelling up my calf and crossing my knee.

  ‘She likes that, Sam, don’t stop,’ Kyle says and he’s absolutely correct. Her dancing tongue is making me squirm in my chair, my bindings providing an effective means for spreading my legs. I appreciate the fact that I hav
e no ability to feign modesty or indignant protest. My legs have been opened, even if just slightly by Archer and his crafty knots. The space created is big enough to allow Samantha’s mouth to wander about my thighs and, as she passes her tongue along the landscape of flesh found there, I bite my lip, visualising her good work proceeding further.

  ‘Kyle thinks you like that,’ Archer says to me.

  ‘It feels nice,’ I whisper.

  ‘But there’s really only one way to be sure,’ Archer replies. ‘Show me.’

  ‘Show you?’

  He takes my hand and guides it toward my lap. ‘Show me.’

  I understand. The blindfold has allowed me to feel less self-conscious, almost removed from the eyes that are surely trained on my every move. I happily invite the illusion, focusing only on the mouth treading on my boundaries below and the voice speaking to me from above. Archer has not released my hand and together we slide it beyond the jersey fabric of my dress. I’ve soaked my panties already, but Archer insists on an accurate measurement of my arousal. ‘You will take your fingers and show me just how wet you are.’

  The words roll off of my lips easily, ‘Yes.’ I am sticky with his power over me and the lovely sweeps of Samantha’s tongue on my skin. So wet, that my fingers gliding over my cunt, become covered with silky nectar for him to inspect.

  He raises my hand to his face, and places a single finger into his mouth before another. ‘That is a very delicious pussy you have, Pamela. And yes, I can plainly see that you are enjoying this very much.’

  ‘Samantha would like a taste,’ Kyle says and next, my remaining fingers are in her mouth. She moans a bit while taking them in. The sound prompts my own mouth to fall apart and suddenly I feel warm breath on my face.

  ‘Do you want to continue, Pamela? Are you ready to say you want more?’ Archer asks. ‘You look like you do. But, until I know you better, the way Kyle knows Samantha, I’ll have to ask to make sure, and you’ll just have to be brave enough to tell me the truth.’

  I answer him by pulling on his shirt attempting to make my desires known. But this is met with a chuckle.

  ‘No, no, Pamela. You do not get to have me. I get to have you. That’s how it works.’ He pauses and slurps softly on my bottom lip. ‘But that’s how you want it, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Kyle, can Samantha have another taste?’ Archer asks.

  ‘She may,’ Kyle answers and his voice is closer now.

  ‘I’d like you to stand up, Pamela,’ Archer says and I feel him behind me. Reaching under my arms, he’s assisted in helping me get my balance with my ankles still bound to the chair. He’s straddling the chair and using his body to add support. I can smell his cologne and feel his cock impressed on my ass. He reaches around my waist, and pulls slowly on the belt of my dress. It’s my prerogative to stop him, but I am not the least bit inclined to do so. As is the nature of a wrap dress, it falls away with ease. ‘There, now you are free to have her, Samantha.’

  When Samantha drapes her tongue across my panties, I go a little weak. The gentle licks, warm through the barrier of lace make me cry out.

  ‘She’s very good, and she enjoys hearing you tell her so.’ Archer says. A quick swish of her tongue into the side of my panties elicits another moan from my lips. And then a low moan of her own. I know that sound. Kyle has surely entered her from behind.

  ‘Jillian,’ Archer says. ‘You look very lonely over there.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘How can I just watch you play with that sweet cunny of yours all by yourself?’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Nicole, Jillian would like some help. She may play with Richard if you allow it.’

  ‘Richard has not earned his playtime,’ Nicole says matter-of-factly. ‘He needs to make me come before anyone else.’

  ‘Pardon my mistake,’ Archer returns.

  I must see what’s been going on in this circus of their creation. Ripping away the blindfold reveals that everyone has removed their clothing and have put their nude bodies to good purpose in one fashion or another.

  ‘You’ll be sorry you did that,’ Jillian tells me from her place on the sofa. She’s grinning widely with some knowledge of what will come next.

  Archer removes the blindfold from my hand. ‘Pamela’s playtime is over,’ he announces. ‘Sit down,’ he breathes in my ear after removing himself from behind me. I think that I’ll protest – ask that he reconsider, but as my mouth opens to speak, he places his finger over my lips. ‘No. You wanted to watch, so now you will watch.’

  Jillian waits patiently for Archer to approach her and his instructions come quickly. She extends her hands and he ties the satin blindfold around her wrists. He has a kiss for her lips, deep and sensual. Then he leads her over to a support pillar not far away. He fastens her to it and she bends in half, ready for him. Though, he isn’t ready yet and leaves her a moment, her long limbs frozen at a perfect right angle. Archer returns with what looks like a simple length of pipe between two leather cuffs. Fastening them around her ankles, she is forced to keep her legs apart and firmly on the floor.

  Archer has no trouble gliding into her, and I have no trouble deciphering the look of pleasure on Jillian’s face. Samantha has ceased all contact with me and is quite busy with sucking Kyle’s cock. Richard, the baby-faced civil rights attorney, has his head buried in Nicole’s crotch and I am left with my fingers wandering among my wetness ... to watch.

  An hour or so later, he finally returns to me. Archer’s ivory cheeks are flushed red with exertion and the rest look equally worked over. He’s covered himself with a pair of shorts. ‘Next time, Pamela, maybe you’ll be able to participate in more of the fun,’ he says. ‘That’s if you learn how to do what you’re told.’

  His words send shivers through me, the kind I get when I want something. ‘Yes, next time I’ll be better behaved.’ I’m getting the hang of my new role, and I’m liking it.

  The others are dressing when Archer unties me from the chair and hands me my discarded von Furstenberg.

  ‘I’ve got court tomorrow,’ Richard says, ‘so I’m going to get going.’ He kisses each of the women softly on the cheek and there’s a handshake for Archer before he crouches next to me. ‘Welcome to our little group, Pamela, I look forward to having a chance to get to know you better.’ He reaches for my hand and I notice the same tattoo of three small rings on his wrist.

  Nicole does not leave with him. In fact, she’s joined up with Kyle after gathering her things. ‘We’re going to hit the road too, Archer. It’s a long ride back to Naples.’

  ‘Bloody fantastic to see you two,’ he says. ‘Next month we’ll make the trek out there, right?’

  ‘Spectacular. Can’t wait,’ she replies and kisses him goodbye.

  The drastic flip from the scene moments ago to this rather normal exchange between close friends has me speechless.

  ‘I’ll bring the wine,’ Jillian says, ‘because no offence, you two, but that shit you served last time gave me a headache for two days.’

  ‘Leave it to Jill to say what we’re all thinking,’ Samantha adds.

  ‘So, Pamela, if I extend the invitation, will you join us again?’ Archer inquires.

  I take a breath, exhaling long and hard after the experience I’ve had, and assess my feelings about it all. Among this puzzling arrangement, I feel like I fit perfectly. ‘I’d love to, just let me know when.’

  Chapter Twelve – Noemi

  I HAVE A WHOLE half-an-hour before anyone is expecting me to do anything and I take a little extra time in the shower, just because I can. These rare moments of solitude are not to be taken for granted. In the thunder of the streaming water, I enjoy the expertise of my own pleasure-making fingers and feel the stress of the day melting away. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the morning, when my vividly detailed dreams left me soaked and unsatisfied.

  It’s not difficult to recall the scenario. Jimmy has arrived to me with Lan
ce in tow, slipping into my bed with few words. I am surprised, but delighted to feel their bodies, warm and solid against my skin. Jimmy kisses me softly, sucking on my tongue and finding the supple flesh of my thighs. He’s crouched over me, possessively encompassing my body and pulling my legs apart – but not for himself. He’s opened me up to give Lance a chance to drag his tongue over my clit. Lance’s mouth is patient and attentive, as detailed as the intricate twists of Jimmy’s tongue on my own.

  Responding to the images of my imagination, my lips fall open to catch some of the water beating down from above as the fantasy progresses.

  Jimmy’s hold on my legs becomes firmer, yet the tenderness of his mouth seems in competition with Lance’s for the most sweet. With a stronger tug on my thighs, Jimmy spreads my legs wide and the words I hear him utter are for me as much as for Lance. ‘Make her yours.’

  And Lance presses into me like he’s the right man for the job. While the cock that I have dreamed about so many times before pulses with every stroke Lance delivers and cruelly remains just out of my reach. An extended tongue invites Jimmy to fill my mouth with it the way Lance is filling my cunt, but it merely dances on the tip with a taste of pre-come serving as a tantalising tease. But soon, I don’t care, because Lance has taken full advantage of Jimmy’s firm grip on my legs, rolling himself into me with a sinuous rhythm that keeps me focused on the orgasm he’s stirring up.

  My fingers play out the sensation as my mind revels in the perfect vision I’ve created. When a long awaited climax results, the flood of reality is soon to follow.

  ‘Emi, I’m going now, so make sure your brother brushes his teeth before bed.’

  I yelled back over the water. ‘Sure, Mommy, have fun.’ A quick check of the clock shows me I have just enough time to make myself presentable ahead of Lance’s arrival.

  From my living room, I can see that his red convertible looks about as much out of place as he does. My eight-year-old hatchback is more fitting for the curb outside our house. Only the drug dealers roll like him around here and I watch everyone giving him the stare down as he approaches our walk. He doesn’t flinch, but I’m feeling uncomfortable enough for the both of us. Never mind the fantasies I entertain, I’m positive this preppy jock has never been to Opa Locka, or dated anyone from a place like it. He looks every bit a part of the country club set and suddenly I feel like the whole thing is a bad idea.