Really?
This is just a bunch of sexiness.
It's not blowing up villages, violating children, torturing people, or any of a thousand other more vile atrocities committed on this planet every day.
I would say children dying of starvation is the Devil, not this.
No, this is just a little erotic fun. And it's all consensual.
What the fuck is wrong with this? Where is the Devil in this? These people all agreed to be here.
I get another flash of me fucking Jasmine's ass with a strap-on.
Tingle.
Oh God, what's happening to me? Where the fuck is Damien?
Jasmine moves toward the black curtain. I can't help but stare at her ass again. I feel a stirring of moisture down below.
She turns sharply and faces the crowd, brandishing her whip. For a split second, I think she's going to whip all of us.
"Bring in the Cage Girls!" she says.
Jasmine steps aside as two cages are wheeled into the center of the room by two muscular men wearing nothing but thongs and combat boots. My sphincter spasms again.
There is a girl on her knees in each cage. Blindfolded, ball-gagged, and bound with rope. They are naked. Their delivery guys disappear back behind the black velvet curtain.
Damn. Hope they come back.
Jasmine slowly steps between the two cages, coiling her whip. She stands there for a few long moments.
Then she laughs, crouching down facing Isabella and me.
I see one of her giant balls bulging out of the side of her thong.
Tingle.
I alternate my leg cross, left over right. I take a deep breath. Fuck, is it getting hot in here?
Jasmine looks at the two girls, her semi-masculine laugh louder now.
"Hello, Cage Girls," she says. "Are you ready to please me?"
Both girls make affirmative grunting noises through their gags.
"You better mean it," says Jasmine.
She goes to one side of one cage and lifts up the bars. They slide upward.
"Come out, slut!" says Jasmine.
The first slut apparently has a difficult time with this, being bound and all. She shuffles ass-backwards an inch at a time through the opening onto the carpet.
"Faster, bitch!" says Jasmine in a voice that makes the entire room jump. Isabella's hand is now clamping down on my thigh, squeezing. I definitely have a warm trickle going on.
Oh, fuck it. Whatever. I'm turned on by this. By Jasmine. By the Cage Girls. By the cage delivery guys. By Isabella in that paint. I don't know why, but I am. Just going to let myself go and enjoy it. Kind of like an outside observer slash journalist slash reporter slash writer, right?
Right?
Can I do this?
Can I just let go and allow myself to enjoy this?
The girl finally makes it fully out of the cage. Jasmine lets the fourth wall drop loudly.
This was apparently a cue because the two muscular guys return, carrying a square countertop-like piece that they fit over the top of the cage. I watch their muscles as they work.
I get a flash of wrapping my legs around one of them from behind while the other one presses into my back.
Tingle.
I look down. My fingers are trembling. I fold my arms to hide them. Damn, it's hot in here.
The muscle guys make sure it's secure, then disappear again behind the black curtain.
Jasmine reaches down behind Cage Girl #1, lifting her up by the rope that binds her hands. She's wobbly, but she's soon on her feet with Jasmine's help. The girl lets out a little grunt, but appears to be okay.
I've never been into the bound and gagged thing. BDSM always seemed too far a road to travel for me. I'm pretty sure it still is.
But this looks fun.
I'm no expert but I think this is more kink than anything else. Note to self: Buy a book on kink and read it.
Kink-aware. That's what it said on Delphina Diamond's card that Isabella gave to me. Hm, maybe I should call her.
Jasmine pulls off the blindfold. The girl is visibly shocked at the crowd. She grunts through the ball gag.
"Ladies and gentlemen," says Jasmine, "may I introduce you to Cage Girl Number One? Her name is Michelle. Yes, that's her real name. Michelle yearns to be sexually free, to let go and enjoy her body… her sexuality… her freedom… and the liberty she has been blessed with. Michelle, do you want to be free?"
Michelle nods.
"I didn't hear you, Michelle," says Jasmine. "Do you want to be free?!"
"Uh-huh" says Michelle through the ball gag.
"True freedom comes from submission," says Jasmine. "Michelle has agreed to submit for you today. But let's hear it in her own words."
Jasmine undoes the ball gag, removing it from Michelle's mouth.
"Are you a little whore, Michelle?"
"Yes," says Michelle.
"Say it. Say 'I am a little whore,' and make sure you look into the eyes of the people."
Michelle looks directly at me.
"I am a little whore," she says.
Jasmine yanks her over to the three rows perpendicular to us.
"Tell these people you are a little slut," says Jasmine.
"I am a little slut!" says Michelle.
A patch of sweat has formed at my lower back. I re-cross my legs the other way and take a deep breath.
Jasmine yanks her to the group facing us on the other side of the room.
"What do you want to do in front of these people, Michelle?" says Jasmine.
"Get fisted," says Michelle.
"What? I can't hear you!"
"I want to get fisted!"
"Where do you want to get fisted?"
"In my ass!"
Jasmine laughs.
"Good girl," says Jasmine as she shoves Michelle face down onto the roof of the cage, simultaneously lifting her up by the rope binds. "Get up!"
Michelle is now on her knees, ass up in the air on top of the cage. Jasmine pushes her face down. Then she spreads Michelle's cheeks wide open.
"Isn't that a beautiful ass?" says Jasmine to the room.
She spins the cage around.
It is indeed a beautiful ass. I stare a little too long at it.
Crack!
The room collectively gasps and leans back as Jasmine cracks her whip across the girl's back.
The girl screams through the gag.
My clit pokes out from under her hood to see what that was.
I nonchalantly glance down at Isabella's pussy. I think I see a little glistening sheen. Although it's hard to tell.
Why am I looking at my best friend's pussy?
To be honest, I've always wanted to kiss Isabella. Those lips are amazing. God, I have to be here in this room to even admit that to myself. It's not like I want a relationship with my best friend. I don't. She means too much to me to spoil anything. I mean, I've known her since we were both twelve. But growing up, I can't say the thought never crossed my mind. And I'm certainly no lesbian.
But I realize now, sitting here in this room, that this is a place where all sexual inhibitions are allowed to roam freely.
And I have a ton of them.
You've probably noticed.
Crack! goes Jasmine's whip.
Crack!
Michelle is apparently enjoying this. Her gagged screams are definitely loaded with orgasmic potential. Blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Small breasts. Nipple clamps that I just noticed. Round ass.
Crack!
The scene repeats itself for Cage Girl Number Two, who is named Candace. Candace is taller and stockier with amber-colored hair.
Both girls end up ass in the air on their respective tables, whipped and smacked. Lines show on their backs and their ass cheeks are red.
I begin to feel a little uneasy. While all this is highly erotic, I'm getting a tinge of something bothersome. Can't quite put my finger on it.
I look around the room. Everyone is transfixed whi
le watching the unfolding scene.
Jasmine raises her arms above her head and claps her hands together.
One of the muscular men arrives with a silver tray. On it is a set of gloves and a bottle of lube.
Oh, God, here we go.
I re-cross my legs again and wipe my upper lip.
Jasmine puts on the thin black gloves. I get a flash of sucking her giant uncut cock.
Tingle.
Damn.
She takes the lube bottle off the tray. The muscular guy disappears back through the black curtain again.
Jasmine pours some lube into her palm, then rubs it all over her gloved hands. Then she upends the bottle, dribbling lube in a direct line right into the top of Michelle's open ass crack. I see wetness dribble past her asshole to her pussy lips.
My own clit springs to attention again as I get a flash of diving into that pussy and asshole with my tongue.
Shit, am I disturbed by this or excited? Make up your fucking mind, Annika!
Jasmine smacks Michelle's ass cheeks a couple more times for good measure, then begins to rub the lube all over.
She takes great care to rub a lot of it around Michelle's asshole. My own puckers again.
I notice my breathing has become short and shallow. My heart is beating fast. Sweat forming around my temples.
Jasmine moves over to Candace, whose ass is facing the audience on the other side of the room. I can't see but it appears she does the same for Candace's ass.
A trickle of wet drifts down my back into the top of my panties. I feel it hit my ass crack. Breathing even more shallow.
Then Jasmine turns the cages so both girls' butts are facing each other. She takes a big gob of lube and puts two fingers into Michelle's asshole. Michelle's leg and ass muscles tense. Michelle groans.
My own sphincter clenches and unclenches.
God, I want things in my ass! Fingers. Toys. Cocks.
Did I just think that? Was that me?
With her other hand, Jasmine probes Candace's butthole. One finger. Two fingers. Three fingers. Both girls moan.
Satan, says my mother's voice in my head.
Isabella digs her nails into my thigh again.
A hot flush snaps through my body. I can't breathe. The room tilts to the side a little.
Something in my head bursts, letting go a cascade of thoughts.
I want to feel Isabella's tongue in my mouth! I want to feel Jasmine's tongue on my pussy lips! I want to feel Damien's tongue in my ear! I want to feel Isabella's breath down my neck as her hands fondle my breasts! I want to feel Damien's cock in my ass! I want to suck Jasmine's cock as it comes out of Isabella's pussy! I want Damien to fuck me in the front while Jasmine pounds me in the rear!
The whole room looks at me including Jasmine.
Apparently I'm standing up.
When did I do that? Why am I doing that?
Too late. I'm doing that.
"Be right back," I mouth to Isabella. "Excuse me," I say to the people next to me as I shuffle past them toward the door through which we came in.
It's not easy. I'm shaking.
As in full-body shaking.
Can't seem to breathe either. Need oxygen. Need space.
I recognize the security guy as one of the valets who parked Isabella's yellow Porsche. He holds open the door to the patio as I come barreling out.
I'm finally on the patio, the heavy beat of the music still pounding away, louder than earlier. People are everywhere. Dancing. Throbbing. Pulsating.
I need wide open space.
Now!
I head to the patch of grass on my left and follow it, happy to be inhaling the fresh non-air-conditioned humid air.
Chapter 10
Even though I'm outside where it's much warmer than the air-conditioned room, I'm shivering. Goosebumps all over.
It's the demon spirit leaving you.
Shut up, Mom. Get out of my head!
Arms folded, I speed past the body painter's tent. Three naked nubiles are lined up in a row, the artist bestowing on them an American flag in three segments. Patriotic. And number three gets the bonus option to double as a candy cane.
What is wrong with me? Why did I have to get out of that room? It was like I couldn't stop myself from leaving.
All I know is I had to get out of there.
I move off behind the DJ and past the makeshift walls over toward the bay. There is a path along the waterline. I turn left, following it.
I'm alone now, in darkness along the water. Unseen.
I'm finally getting control of my breathing. Hot humid oxygen fills my lungs and my bloodstream.
I'm free over here. Wide open space. Unseen. Invisible.
I like being unseen. Invisible. I'm safe when nobody can see me. Safe to be me. Safe to have my private thoughts. Safe to pleasure myself.
Where did that thought come from? Shit, I really do need to call that Delphina Diamond and make an appointment, don't I? I think I might be losing my mind.
It's like my brain did a forced shut down. Too much stimulation. Too many images.
I keep walking. Shit, am I still on Damien's property? The moon is full, the only light on my path.
This is probably a bad idea. Strike that. This is definitely a bad idea. I'm off in some dark hidden spot where I could get raped.
My heart thumps faster. I decide to go back.
But just as I'm about to turn, I catch a glimpse of something tall and white, hidden behind a row of eugenias. The tall bushes are placed in a square with openings on each side.
My curiosity gets the better of me as I turn back again and walk toward an opening in the thick shrubbery.
I gasp at the sight before me.
A square Roman garden, fronted on three sides. Elaborate white stone floor. A fountain in the center, surrounded by a raised square wall with a bench built into it, facing the water. Three statues in the center of each of three walls. Sculpted bushes.
In the moonlight, the entire place looks ethereal, almost like it could vanish if a cloud covered the moon.
I walk toward the bench and look out at the ocean. The soft night air coming in off the water is refreshing and healing. Distant car headlights travel the Rickenbacker to the left while the lights of Key Biscayne dance on the water directly ahead of me.
My fears diminish. I'm not sure why, but I feel warm and protected here. A calm washes over me.
I sit on the bench and stare out at the water.
"My favorite view," a voice says from the darkness.
I gasp and leap up. Back-of-neck hairs at full attention. Adrenaline activated. Ready to run.
"No need to be afraid," says the voice I know.
A voice that I've loved since I first heard it. Yet it was always pixelated via transmission of digital encoding. But here it is with me, fully analog.
As analog as you can get.
Oh God, I'm so happy to hear him!
His is a commanding masculine voice, yet calming. I turn toward its sound, coming from the opposite exit of the garden.
"Damien?" I say.
He steps forward, the moonlight catching the blond highlights in his hair. It must be my imagination, but his blue eyes seem to be glowing.
I take a deep breath, trying to stem the vortex of emotions in which I spin.
But it's no use.
As I look at the dark form near me, I disintegrate into a swampy mess.
"You like it here?" he says.
"It's gorgeous," I say.
"I had these stones flown in from Italy. That statue from Greece. I commissioned the other two."
He takes a step closer to me. My heart goes all rapid again.
"I wanted to create a private peaceful spot in the middle of the asphalt jungle of the city," he says. "I come here to clear my head."
"It works," I say. "I feel it. As soon as I walked in, I felt calm."
"I knew you'd be here," Damien says.
"How?" I say.
&
nbsp; He steps toward me. His square chin glows bluish-white against the starry sky. We are far enough away from the house to be in our own moonlit world.
God, we're in our own fucking universe as far as I'm concerned.
"You think like me," he says. "We're two of a kind."
"What does that mean?" I say.
He just laughs, then looks down. His eyes shoot up in that Lord Byron overlook again. God, he's good at that.
"There are a hundred girls at this party right now. Only one came over here." Closer again. "You. That's three times you've shocked the fuck out of me, Annika Spenser from MiamiImproper.com."
The sweet smell of bougainvillea permeates the air. Behind it I catch a whiff of musk and pine. My toes curl in my shoes.
"What were the first two?" I say.
"Understanding my hard work philosophy and Far Away being your favorite song," he says.
"What is it with that song?"
His gaze leaves me, traveling across the dark water. I lose him, sensing his spirit returning to another time and place.
"I can't talk about it right now," he says.
Then abruptly, he returns to the present. He moves forward and puts his hands on mine, holding my wrists in a lock in front of him. He pushes me away from him. Holds me there for a second. Then he pulls me into him.
I gasp.
He brings me to within a half inch of his lips, but just holds me there.
Then he makes a low growling sound, jostles my hands, and I think he's going to finally pull me in to kiss him.
My heart is out of control now. My body wobbles in a swirl of longing and fear.
But he just keeps me there, a half inch away from him.
I feel the heat of his breath, a hint of Blue Curaçao and mint.
He leans down to my neck, breathing me in. Inadvertently, I lean forward.
Oh fuck, there's no inadvertently about it. I lean forward because I want to.
Before I know it he's breathing down my neck, entrails of masculine heat lighting a direct line from my neck to my clit.
He remains about an inch away from me, like he's trying to inhale me without touching me.
I can't take much more of this.
Then his tongue touches my neck. Fireworks shoot off inside me. I see stars.
He licks up to my ear and bites my lobe. I make a sound like a cross between a scream and a whimper.
Skylar Cross - [The Cage Sessions 02] Page 2