by Bibi Rizer
“Please what?” he says against the softness of my inner thigh, his breath hot on my skin.
I search my thoughts for the right words. Not what he wants me to say but what I want to say. “Please, sir…don’t make me wait any longer.”
With one hand he spreads my lips, revealing my clit. With the other he dips one finger into my wet opening. Then he gives me what I’ve been craving. His lips and tongue on my scorching flesh.
The noise I make when he sucks my clit is a strangled scream, and the moment my mind and body craves more penetration, his fingers are there, two, then three, pulsing in and out of me as his mouth works its magic higher up. No sooner do I register the burning need in my neglected breasts than the binding on my hands seem to dissolve and I reach down, pinching hard on each nipple to relieve the desire.
My skin tingles as my thoughts begin to swirl in time with his tongue on me, his fingers thrusting in and out. I want to delay it, to make it last, to linger in this paradise of sensation and ecstasy as long as I can, but I might as well try to hold back a storm. I cry out, eyes pressed shut as my feet begin to tremble and burn.
“Stop, please, slow….uuuhhh...down, please…”
Tully doesn’t stop moving, his lips and tongue never pausing in their insistent attentions, but somehow his voice whispers, not in the room but in my head.
“It’s not over when you come. You can keep going.”
I open my eyes, expecting to somehow see Tully hovering over me as well as with his face in between my legs, but all I see is my own flushed and writhing reflection as the heat spreads up my body – a burn I can no longer contain. Convulsing with the strength of my climax, I gasp out the names of gods no one believes in anymore, until my words dissolve into a formless scream of ecstatic release that seems to last forever. I leave my body and become nothing but light and heat and pleasure.
The room is gone. Tully is gone. The moon is gone.
I am utterly lost.
Chapter Four
When I come to my senses, Tully is still in between my legs, resting his head on my thigh, looking up at me, his face partially hidden by the rise and fall of my breasts and belly. He doesn’t speak, rather simply strokes his hand lightly over my hip and down to my knee as my breathing returns to normal.
“Did you like that?” he finally says.
“Extraordinary.” Verbs and sentence structure are still beyond my abilities.
“What do you want to do now?”
I think something. Something I’ve only ever seen in old digi-vids. And even though I don’t put my thoughts into words, Tully stands and walks over to a small fur rug which he brings back and tosses on the floor by the bed. He leans over, pulling me gently to the edge of the bed.
“Kneel here.” He points to the soft rug.
I kneel, facing him, looking up into his shining golden eyes. My heart is pounding and I’m afraid I’ll start to hyperventilate. I’ve always wanted to try this. Some of my friends have tried it with servants and not found it particularly successful. But I have a feeling that whatever I try here will be as good as I make it.
“What do you want to do?” Tully strokes one hand on my cheek, the other over the bulge in the front of his jeans. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” I lick my lips.
“Where do you want it?”
Everywhere, I would say if I was telling the truth. And I would let him have me every which way, but right now I have something specific in mind. “My mouth.”
He smiles, unbuttoning his jeans. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
I watch, mesmerized as he lowers his zipper an inch, two inches, before stopping.
“I said: tell me exactly what you want to do.”
“I want…I want…to suck you.”
Another half inch of zipper opens. He’s not wearing anything underneath his jeans. Do men even wear underwear? How on earth would I know?
“You want to suck me? What part of me?”
“Your…cock. I want to suck your cock.”
“And?”
“And make you come. I want you to come in my mouth.”
He reaches into his jeans at last and pulls out his straining manhood.
It’s as beautiful as the rest of him. Large, but manageably so, hard and smooth as a stone carving, jutting up at an angle that points right at my eyes. I crave it, salivating at the sight of it without even knowing what to expect.
“Like what you see?” He places one hand on the back of my head, gently tangling his fingers in my hair. His other hand holds his cock as he entices me forward.
I have no idea where to begin so I try a tentative kiss right on the tip. I look up, expecting some approval or encouragement, but Tully just looks back down at me, pressing his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. I don’t like being laughed at, even at the best of times. I know I’m young and inexperienced in most things. And a lot of women my age are completely inexperienced when it comes to sex. I’d be the first to admit I’m as clueless as any of them. But I have pride. Now I’m determined to show him how good I am at this thing I’ve never done and can’t even remember the name for.
Mouth job? Air job?
Tully bends his head down a bit and blows softly on my face, an oddly intimate gesture.
Blow job. That’s what it’s called.
“Put your hands on the back of your head,” Tully says, nudging the swollen tip of his cock against my pouting lips as I obey him. “Let me guide you.”
He inches forward as I open my mouth uncertainly, worried that he’s going to make me swallow the whole thing. But when the head is just inside my lips he stops. I close my mouth and let my tongue swirl around it. The taste is salty and warm as Tully grasps my head with both his hands over mine and slowly rocks me back and forth on his cock. Just an inch, then two.
“Oh yeah…” He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he looks back down on me they’ve changed color. No longer caramel brown, they are now as glossy black as the stairway that led me to him. “Your mouth is hot. It feels amazing.”
Emboldened by his praise, I lean forward, sliding him further in, until the tip of his cock bumps the back of my throat. His fingers in my hair slowly pull me back. I lean forward again, sliding him deeper in this time, past the back of my mouth and into my throat.
“Fuck…that’s good.” Tully lifts his head, gasping towards the ceiling, before looking down on me with eyes that are now blazing green as emeralds.
Our fingers intertwine in my hair as he moves his hips in time with pulling and pushing my head back and forth. My eyes are locked on his – locked on the green fire that burns in them. As his movements quicken, my own excitement builds, my heart ramming against my ribs as his cock rams against the back of my throat. My jaw begins to ache with the effort of it – my tongue swirling as he pumps in and out.
“Yeah…oh yeah…keep doing that. Exactly that…fuuuuccckkk…” I’m not sure what it is I’m doing that he seems to like so much. His fingers tighten on mine, the tangles of hair he clenches tugging at my scalp. “Uhh…yes…baby, yes…I’m going to come…”
His cock throbs heavily and swells in my mouth. Then with pulsing waves, jets of hot fluid fill my throat. For the first time since we started all this, I flinch. The feeling is so unfamiliar, so carnal and so real. I’ve been lost in the sensations so much that I’ve all but forgotten that this isn’t real. But his taste, his warmth, the sensation of swallowing his hot essence all feels real. Dream or hallucination, it’s more real than the man I fucked on the Sky Level. Or the woman on the River Level.
Tully extracts his fingers from my hair and pulls back. His still hard cock springs out, slick and wet, and bounces lazily in front of my face. He strokes my cheek, then the other, wiping away a droplet of semen, before bending down and kissing me. I’m self-conscious that my mouth must still taste of him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts me to my feet, not breaking the kiss unti
l he has maneuvered me to sitting on the edge of the bed.
“How do you want it?” He stands over me, his cock still pointing directly at my face.
“What? How do I want what?”
Tully steps forward and pushes my legs apart with his knees. “Well, I’m going to fuck you. And I want to know how you want it. Shall I wrap you around me and push you up against a wall? Bend you over the dresser? Or do you want to ride me, slide up and down on my cock while I watch?”
The answer comes to me as an image, as arousing as it is shocking, and before I have the chance to put it into words, Tully puts it into motion. He shoves me back on the sheets and flips me over. The speed at which he does it startles me and I yelp before dissolving into giggles.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, sir.”
Now we’re acting out a digi-vid I watched when I was much too young to see such things. My friends found it on a forbidden excursion to the humming ruins. We watched it daily until the signal degraded so much it was like trying to see through rain clouds. The woman in the vid was spread out face down as I am, her wrists and ankles chained to the corners of the bed.
As I register this memory, I blink once and open my eyes to see my own wrists stretched out on either side of me, in cuffs linked to the bed posts with glistening chains. I try to move my legs, but my ankles are equally restrained. I’m about to laugh again when I remember another detail of the vid.
Smack!
“I love to see my hand print on you”. Tully strokes the rising heat on my ass cheek. “But I think you need a matching set.”
I tense in anticipation that somehow makes the second slap even more painful. “God,” I say through teeth clenched down on a mouthful of the satin sheets.
“That’s better. Now you look like you have wings.”
My mind floods with other images from the vid, stuff I didn’t quite remember until this moment. Things I can’t imagine enjoying. I turn my head frantically and find that the mouthful of sheets has mutated into some kind of ball clamped into my mouth. I try to cry out, tugging on the chains at my wrists and ankles.
Tully stands behind me, strangely still, gazing back at me impassively. He’s frozen in place, one hand pressing on the small of my back, the other wielding some kind of black rubber dildo that looks much too large to be comfortable. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest in even breaths I would think he was a statue – a beautiful hard-cocked statue poised to shove a giant dildo in my ass.
The ball gag prevents me from invoking the safe word. I try thinking it but nothing changes. Tully blinks, not moving as my eyes fill with terrified tears. Too much. This is all too much and I don’t know how to stop it.
“Relax,” his voice floats above me again. “You’re in control. Just think of something else.”
I close my eyes. Feeling the ball dissolve and disappear from my mouth, I gasp back the safe word that’s been ringing in my mind. As I look up, my wrists are released, the shackles and chains vanishing before my eyes. I pull my legs together as Tully, the bodily Tully, not the disembodied voice, moves to sit next to me. I roll over, wrapping myself in the sheet and sit next to him. He watches me silently, still, his face expressionless.
“Whatever you want,” he says, his voice a little out of synch with his lips again. His eyes are back to their deep caramel color.
I try to clear my mind. The images of the digi-vid linger almost as obstacles, stone walls and tombstones beyond which is something I want much more, something I can’t quite see.
Tully seems to come to life, as though his personality has been injected back into him. He moves closer, fingers lightly tucking strands of hair behind my ears. “Tell me what you want.” He kisses me. “Anything.”
My brain has been sparking with strange and frightening things because of what I’m trying not to want. Trying not to let this Tully know my true fantasy. It’s just a dream; and that truth will make it heartbreak of a kind I’m not sure I can bear. But I can’t contain it anymore. I free my mind, let my thoughts ask for my heart’s truest desire.
Tully slides off the bed to kneel between my legs, wrapping his arms around me as he looks up into my face. “I love you, my beautiful princess. I love you so much it hurts.”
“Only me?”
“Only you. Forever only you.”
We fall backwards to the bed as Tully tugs the sheet from around me. Moving one hand down he grabs himself, sliding his hardness over my slippery cleft. I reach up, feeling the tensing muscles of his other arm, his chest, his hard abdomen.
When he penetrates me, whether I gasp from joy or sob from despair I don’t know. The heaven of having him inside me soon erases any misgivings. This is a dream, but the love I feel is as real as I am likely to ever get. The stretching, pushing pressure of his cock makes me break open even wider – mind, heart, soul, body. I lift my legs up and he glides in deeper still until we are joined as closely as two lovers can be, the tip of his cock thrumming on a spot of nerves, a well of pleasure as yet untapped, unreached, not even by the many and various toys I’ve tried.
“Ahh, yes…” I grab his ass, a futile attempt to pull him completely inside. He’s as deep as I go. Any deeper and the edges between us would begin to blur. “Fuck me, now. Fuck me hard.”
He rears up, holding himself with one rippling arm while the other clutches my leg, pressing it back with his shoulder. Then he plunges into me, again and again, hard, fast, deep. Perfect. His length reaches the aching trembling place over and over, until I’m writhing beneath him, crying out incoherently. Each thrust, each impact on the miraculous inner wonderland is like insanity coalesced into a wave of ecstasy. I’m falling to pieces, unable to process the intensity, the emotions, the sheer bliss of having this beautiful man all to myself. I know it’s not real. I don’t care. I would give up everything I own, everything I am, to stay here with him forever.
I grab a handful of his hair and pull him down, capturing his mouth with mine. Our tongues swirl and thrust, teeth scraping lips, biting wildly.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He moans against my lips, voice deep, guttural, animalistic. Suddenly he rises up, grabbing me by both hips and pulling me, lifting my ass off the bed as though I weigh nothing, holding me there as he fucks me.
“Yes…yes…I’m…” My back arches like a creature on fire, hands clutching the satin sheets as the second orgasm floods me in a quenching wave. “I’m coming…I’m…aaahhh…”
Tully doesn’t stop or even slow. His even thrusts prolong the peak of pleasure past the point of reason, until my mind breaks free and seems to careen around the room like a storm. I’m screaming shapeless ecstatic noises when Tully finally presses deep inside me, convulsing.
“Baby…yes…yes…” The throbbing of his cock when he comes nearly sends me further over the edge. “Oh…yes…” His lifts his face to the ceiling, mouth open in a silent wail as I watch the ripples of release churn up his body. At last with one final twitch he stills.
A second passes. I feel a little tugging on my mind. “Not yet, please,” I say, and the tugging relents, releasing me for now.
Tully gently lays me back on the bed and lowers himself to cover me. His cock slips out followed by a gush of both of our juices. I register the musky smell of sex: sweat, cum, the salt of tears, Tully’s hair. The faint memory of the wine we drank.
But that was a different Tully. The real Tully drank the wine, not this one. This one looks down on me, his sleepy eyes penetrating mine. “I love you, O’Mara. Completely.” He seals that falsehood with a kiss. Maybe to him it’s real. This dream is his world after all.
“I love you too, Tully. I love you with all my heart.” It feels true, though it can’t be. Not for me. This is not my world. And with those words, with that admission, comes the strength to let it be over. Of everything Tully’s machine has given me, that is what I really wanted. To love, and be loved in return
. Like it used to be, if the stories are true. I only wanted to see how it felt. And now I know. Now it’s time to leave.
As Tully looks down on me, I can see his imaginary soul depart this simulated body. His eyes harden like toffee and lose focus. I try to touch him, try to capture one last second of the warmth of his skin, but my hand passes through him like the mist off the river. And I find I can wipe him away, wipe the whole scene away. I lift my other hand to make it go faster, push away the mirrored ceiling, the satin bed, the moonlit windows, and Tully. I push his beautiful face away last.
Behind him is only darkness.
Chapter Five
“O’Mara. O’Mara? Wake up. That’s it, gently now. Wake up.”
I open my eyes to Tully holding my hand, with his other hand carefully removing the electrodes from my face and neck. He has zipped his hoodie and pulled the hood up. I look down and notice I’m covered in a thick blanket.
“They turned off the heat to try to clear the stairs.” He releases my hand, winding the electrode cable around his fist. “Some kind of scuffle that spread over three levels. Are you cold?”
As he puts away the cables, I pull the blanket up to my chin. Not cold exactly – exposed. How much of what just happened did he see? Did he hear what I said? How I told him that I love him? Traces of that feeling linger, almost as though the real Tully and the dream Tully are two sides of one entity, twins joined only by a thin sheath of flesh and spirit.
Pressing my eyes closed, I try to rid my mind of it before it overwhelms me. I’m grieving him as though he was a real lover who I’ve now lost forever. I try to think like a journalist – impartial, objective, unemotional – but the cold and exhaustion make it impossible. By the time he comes back to the chair, I’m crying.
“Hey, hey.” He kneels down in front of me, reminding me of that moment in the dream. It only makes it worse. Tully produces a clean handkerchief from somewhere and dabs at my face. “It’s okay, just let it out. Sometimes this service can be like that. It’s intense. Much more than any other service.”