Wilder's Fantasies

by Cindy Jacks

  Fantasy Four

  Stripped

  Fiona felt exposed already and she hadn't yet stepped on stage. The tiny schoolmarm costume left little to the imagination—tight black skirt, starched white shirt, dark hosiery held up with garters, and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses to complete the look. Her hair in a bun and minimal makeup fit the theme as well. Apprehension churned in her stomach. How had she let Marcelo talk her into this?

  Not that she didn't trust her dom. He had, after all, awakened a side to Fiona she never knew existed. From uptight CPA to sensual submissive in a few wild months. And the man knew how to coax out of her every wish, every desire she harbored. He had been right about the enjoyment she would take from all their other activities, it followed he was right to push her into performing tonight.

  Peeking around the curtain, she observed the other dancers. Since it was amateur night at the Platinum Gentleman's Club, none of the other performers were pros, but the girl Fiona had to follow was no amateur. She worked the pole in the center of the stage as though she owned it. Nerves clenched Fiona's abdomen again.

  “Surely you aren't having second thoughts,” a baritone voice behind her asked. It was Marcelo's voice. Her pulse quickened as it always did when he spoke.

  “Of course not, Chelo.” She turned to face him.

  He held her at arms length, his eyes roaming over her, his gaze as warm as the palm of his hand. “Good. You look beautiful, preciosa. I can't wait to see how envious my friends will be when you bare that sexy body of yours.”

  Fiona swallowed hard. True, in the past, Marcelo had brought others into their love games. She had gotten used to making a display of her body, but the audience in those instances were one, perhaps two onlookers at the most, not a room full of men, eyes focused solely on her. She wasn't sure she could dance for them much less... Pushing the thought from her mind, she turned back to her view around the heavy, black velvet curtain.

  This time, instead of studying the dancer, she looked over the sea of faces in the crowd. Each one hard and masculine, each one with a message of desire written across it. They had settled themselves into cherry Queen Anne chairs around tables covered in white linens. Curling streams of smoke from only the finest cigars reached for the gilded ceiling. It all appeared so civilized, but Fiona was sure there was nothing civilized about the scenarios playing out inside these men's heads.

  “I might be having a few second thoughts,” she murmured.

  At this, Chelo laughed. “Mi amor, don't be silly. You will go out there and dance and show everyone how beautiful you are. They will love you—” his hand ran down the bodice of her blouse—“How could they not?”

  He passed her a glass of champagne which she gulped down. The dancer's song was coming to an end. It was almost showtime for Fiona.

  The half-naked red-head trotted off-stage, large, full breasts jiggling. She seemed not at all perturbed by the stares of the doms backstage with their submissives. Fiona noticed Marcelo didn't stare, his eyes, as always, remained on Fiona.

  “Let's welcome next to our stage,” the announcers smooth, disembodied voice said, “Marcelo's mistress.”

  “Como se dice?” Chelo asked. “Break a leg?”

  “Right.” Fiona gave him a quick hug.

  Her selected music, Sexy Back by Justin Timberlake, blared through the club's sound system. With measured, graceful steps, Fiona made her entrance, stage left. Catcalls and murmurs of approval went up from the audience. Luckily, the bright lights obscured their faces.

  You can do this, Fiona assured herself. You've danced around in your undies at home to this song a thousand times.

  Turning at center stage to face the crowd, her hand strayed to the buttons on her. She unfastened a couple, but then dropped to her knees. Not yet, they couldn't see the goodies yet. Fiona heard good-natured protests in reply. This was, after all, supposed to be a striptease.

  She hooked her leg around the pole and swung around it a couple times. Though, Marcelo had installed one in the playroom so she could practice, the pole still intimidated her. Abandoning it, she struck a pose and ripped off her tear-away skirt. The crowd cheered at the sight of her in a G-string and garter belt.

  Spinning around, she dropped to her knees again and slid to the edge of the catwalk that jutted out from the middle of the stage. The song had neared its crescendo, time to turn up the heat a little more. She popped the remaining buttons on her blouse, took down her hair and shook out her hair. The glasses came off next.

  So into the music and the high of whipping a room full of men into a frenzy, the cheers around her hardly registered. Fiona knew just what it was to be a repressed woman discarding the safety of her plain outward appearance. No longer interested in teasing, she ripped open the front panels of her leather bra and luxuriated in the air-conditioned coolness that moved over her nipples. After licking her fingers, she let them stray to the tight buds at the tip of each breast. Pleasure coursed through her bringing with it, wild abandon. Yes, she could finish this act.

  She hopped onto her stiletto heels, crouching before the men now, legs spread wide so they could see her thong panties were indeed crotchless. The heat from the spotlight on her nether regions warmed them more.

  The music transitioned to Enigma's Sadeness, part one. With the opening beat of the new song, she ran a hand over her bare breasts, down her legs and slipped a finger inside her cunt. The other hand plucked and rubbed her swollen clit.

  Hands reached on stage, caressing her legs and ass. It was the only portion of the act during which the men were allowed to touch her. She sank onto her back, her own fingers working a quick rhythm to take her closer to climaxing.

  Touches of all sorts surrounded her. Hands on her breasts, her thighs, some held her ankles apart so everyone could view her pleasuring herself. She felt vulnerable yet powerful at the same time. She was in control of all these men. They were dying to see her climax. She could make them wait as long as she wanted…except for the fact that she too longed for release.

  Unbearable tension tugged at her core, her pussy swollen and soaking wet. A few more swirls of her forefinger against her clit and a massive orgasm broke free.

  Her cries reverberated in her ears, she opened her eyes to see a mirror above her, her face contorted in ecstasy. She turned her head to the side, wanting to connect with someone, anyone. She needed to see the face of just one man who shared her right now.

  To her surprise, she discovered Angel's sweet visage staring down at her. His hand cradled her neck. Acting on impulse, she lifted her torso and leaned into him, her mouth capturing his in a languid kiss. He sucked at her lips and tongue, feeding on the waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

  As the climax quieted, she took in the taste of the young man with whom she had become enamored the first moment they met. Too soon his lips broke contact with hers.

  Light and sound returned to with harsh reality. Her performance had ended. She rose to her feet and bowed deeply and exited to raucous applause, stage left.

  Marcelo waited there for her. In his hand he held the collar. The collar.

  “You understand what you did was wrong?” he asked, though this was no question. It was a statement of fact.

  Fiona's gaze fell to the floor. She knew she shouldn't have kissed Angel, but she had gotten caught up in the moment. “Yes. I understand.”

  Without further discourse, Fiona lowered her head and allowed Marcelo to fasten the thick metal collar around her neck. Giving her no time to dress herself, he gave a vicious jerk on the choke chain. She didn't resist. Whatever he was about to do to her was his right. She had misbehaved and it was time to take her punishment.

  He led her to a private room at the back of the club. Onlookers leered at her naked body, but she did her best keep her eyes on the plush carpeting. She didn't want to incense Marcelo even more.

  He opened the door to the room, pulled her inside, and locked the door behind them.

  “Kneel,”
he told her. Again, without objection, she dropped to her knees in front of him.

  He took off his tie and blindfolded her. “You shouldn't have kissed him, Fiona.”

  “I know, Marcelo, I'm sorry. I got caught up—”

  “Don't make excuses.” He pulled on the chain, the links tightening around her throat.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “I believe you are, but still, you have to pay the consequences.”

  “Yes, Marcelo.”

  She heard the sound of metal against metal—he had clipped the chain to a anchor ring on the way. Hearing the rustle of his clothing, she could tell he was undressing. She could feel the warmth of his body as he moved around her. Anticipation mingled with a tinge of fear stiffened her body.

  “Relax, preciosa. It will be better for you if you relax.”

  Without warning, a searing pain felt as though it would split her apart. Though he had lubricated whatever massive object he put inside her, it was still almost too big to bear. She struggled to handle the agony.

  Marcelo's cock rubbed against her backside.

  “I can't.” She groaned.

  Pulling her head back by her hair, he replied, “All you have to do is say the word. Say it, and this all ends. You know that.”

  Fiona wouldn't give him the satisfaction. In all the time they had been pushing each other's limits, he had broken her only once. She had sworn to herself she would never again utter the safe word: Strangelove.

  Her silence gave him implicit permission to do whatever he wanted. He shoved his slick erection into her backside. She cried out, panting through the worst of the pain. Between the huge shaft of the implement inside her cunt and Marcelo filling her ass, her legs trembled and buckled. His grip on her hair pulled her up to her knees again. She yelped, but her show of weakness brought no mercy.

  With savage force, Marcelo drove himself into her, pulled out the length of his cock and then drove it into her again, all the while holding her head back. The chain stayed tight around her neck, almost to the point of choking her.

  A little dizzy with pain, she panted, trying to control the adrenaline setting her body on fire. Little by little, she felt her body cope. She could take whatever he gave her. More than that―she loved it.

  As the initial rush of agony receded her body responded. Pulse pounding between her thigh, ass and cunt both open and dripping wet, she longed to come.

  “May I touch myself?” she asked.

  “Yes, you may.” His voice grunted out in time with his thrusts.

  She rubbed her clit and labia, marveling at how tightly they were stretched. Bucking against Marcelo’s pounding, she pinched and rolled her clitoris between her thumb and forefinger. Her whimpers of agony turned into moans of ecstasy. She embraced the pain he inflicted as part of the rapture they shared. Only he knew how to do this, only he held the key to unlock her body and soul.

  The orgasm hit her without warning, erupting in her core and spreading like wildfire. The power of the climax ejected the dildo from her cunt, her own juices streaming down her legs. Sweet relief rushed through her as Marcelo shook, buried within her ass. Each twitch of his cock filled her with his cum until it leaked from her puckered hole.

  He released her hair and allowed her to collapse forward. Fiona continued to stroke between her legs, tiny aftershocks sending shivers through her.

  Marcelo leaned forward and kissed the back of her raw neck. “This body is mine and no one touches it without my permission,” he murmured in her ear. “Understand, mi amor?”

  “Yes. I understand.” As she always had. She understood every inch of her body belonged to Marcelo. And Marcelo alone.

  Fantasy Five

  Never Let Me Down

  Marcelo took great care with preparation for playtime. It was the framework for the trust he and Fiona shared during their explorations. First he would undress her, folding her clothes neatly and setting them aside. Next, he would bathe her with warm, downy cloths and apply exotic oils to every inch of her skin. From there came the binding.

  The material used to tie her up varied as did the positions Sometimes he trussed her to rings along the wall using cotton rope. Other nights he would secure her to the bed with silk or use different apparatuses lined with velvet or fur to mold her into the position of his liking. Even with these small variations, Fiona always knew what to expect.

  She had also become accustomed to being blindfolded. Marcelo often employed the technique to heighten an experience. Each time he tied the silk scarf around her eyes, she enjoyed the sexual play all the more.

  “Marcelo?” she called out to him. From his footsteps, she knew he moved around the playroom, but she couldn't tell what he was doing. No telltale sounds or scents though she had been splayed out in a ready position, bound to his liking for nearly half an hour. Sometimes the wait was part of his bag of tricks, too.

  “Yes, preciosa? Growing impatient?”

  “Yeah, but in a good way.”

  A warm, bass laugh told her he was amused. He must have something very special planned, indeed.

  “What are we waiting for?” she asked.

  His answer: a light whack to her thigh with a sturdy wooden paddle. “Patience, mi amor. Patience.”

  Without warning, a thick void of sound hugged her ears. Headphones? This was new. Noise-filtering headphones. Now, not only was she deprived of sight, but also of her hearing.

  “Marcelo?” She struggled to keep the burst of panic out of her voice. Her own words proved the only sounds she could hear.

  His reassuring hand stroked her cheek. She imagined him saying, “All you have to do is say the word.” He loved to remind her that the safe word would set her free. He also knew that Fiona regarded the use of the word Strangelove as weakness and she was not weak. She prided herself on pushing to whatever limit he had chosen—and in some cases, past it. This new device would make tonight's game all the more arousing. Fiona trusted her master.

  As if he sensed her thoughts, his touch moved from her face, down her abdomen, to her thighs. A gentle kiss grazed her clitoris. She tensed against her bindings. Sueded leather cut into her ankles and tightened around her wrists. Arms bound overhead, she cursed that she couldn't run her hands over his body. It was, after all, such a lovely body. Thick, sculpted musculature covered in caramel-colored skin.

  Marcelo slipped a finger inside her cunt, and then another. And then another. The tension worked to open her. Muscles deep inside relaxed with each push. Hot lips suckled at her bare nipple, sending electrical pulses from her breast straight to her core. Her pussy tightened around his fingers. At this, he withdrew their stimulation. No, he wouldn't let her come yet.

  Thick cock probing her wet slit, Marcelo into her cunt. Or was it Marcelo? Something about the shaft felt foreign, not quite like Marcelo, nor did the slim form between her legs feel like her master. Had someone else entered her?

  The realization gave her a shiver. While Marcelo was more than willing to allow others into their bedroom to watch or take part in games, he rarely allowed anyone to take their enjoyment while she was tied up. That was usually his right alone.

  Excitement washed over her at the thought her master sharing her. Bound and unable to see or hear who fucked her, Fiona delighted in this new game. Her cunt spasmed, her nipples drawing to tight buds.

  The stranger's rhythm seemed somehow familiar, but she couldn't figure out to whom it belonged. His thrusts were urgent, passionate, but at the same time less commanding than Marcelo's. He moved inside her cunt with tenderness, but enough force on the upstroke to rub the entire length of his shaft against her most sensitive spot. She moaned and writhed beneath him. Who cared at this moment about names or faces? As long as he kept giving her pleasure. But just as she neared a powerful orgasm, her beautiful stranger withdrew.

  “No,” she cried. “Please, don't stop.” Though she knew the objection to be useless, she pulled against her restraints. To her surprise, her legs came free, no doubt b
ecause Marcelo had given the stranger permission to free them.

  Strong shoulders scooped under her knees and someone pushed inside of her again. This time it was Marcelo. His cock filled her, his sac tickling her ass. He slid in and out of her easily, her cunt soaking wet. Marcelo worked hard and fast, his pelvis ramming against her thighs until her pussy dripped cream. Again she felt herself on the edge of losing control and again, her master withdrew.

  He released the tie holding her hands, but maintained control over her, leading her, she assumed, in the direction of the bed. Her instincts proved correct. Pulling her back against his front, they scaled the plush mattress. She felt Marcelo lay back, keeping her back pressed to his abdomen and positioning her low enough so that he could enter her again.

  The whole of Marcelo cock inside her cunt, the stranger joined her them. He spread her legs and with gentle pressure, slipped the head of his shaft into her pussy as well. Fiona gasped. Could she handle two men in the same hole? Every inch of her body wanted to find out.

  She shifted against the pressure, stretching through the discomfort and pushed forward. Finally, the stranger's cock slipped all the way inside. Moans of pleasure and pain shook Fiona.

  The men moved in time with each other at first and then with alternating forward and back movements. Marcelo let go of the straps that held her wrists. Hands shaking, she touched the stranger's body. Such smooth skin and taut muscles. Before she could pluck his name from her memory, his mouth lowered to hers. The taste of his lips cemented her suspicions. This was no stranger.

  “Angel?” she murmured.

  Only playful swipes of his tongue came in reply.

  Pushing off the headphones, she allowed them to clatter to the floor and pulled off the blindfold.

  “Pleasantly surprised, preciosa?” Marcelo asked, his deep voice behind her.

  “Oh yes,” she answered.

  Angel's handsome, flawless face peered down at her, his solid chest against hers, pressing her against Marcelo. One hand entwined with Marcelo's and one arm wound around Angel, she felt completed, somehow whole. In Marcelo, she had found her master and now, in Angel, she found her lover.