Sin Delicious
Page 19
“Why don’t you kiss me?” she asked him. We were all there surrounding him, bandmates and babes and all, but this girl was as brazen as can be.
“This ring says I can’t,” Cas replied with a shrug, showing her the wide platinum band that was meant to symbolise his faithfulness to his betrothed. I saw Sindee break out in a wide grin at this. She knew she was special and the ‘ring rule’ didn’t apply to her. Honey would have been at this brazen girl’s throat but Sindee is different. She likes the attention Cas gets. She likes the affirmation that he is wanted by thousands and yet she is the one he chooses over all. Look by all means, is her message – be as sexy and dirty as you want in front of him and me. For Honey it is the opposite. She just wants a female exclusion zone around him. However, for the first time I realise that liberal, free-loving Sindee now has the same final warning for others as poor, ignorant Honey, which is: keep your fucking hands off my man. Except that he’s already had his hands on me.
“It’s just a kiss,” said the brazen girl, with a shrug of her own. I think she made it back here to our hotel for our after-party party: just one amongst many new faces leaping into the black Range Rover cavalcade alongside us with no thought of where they were going or how they would get back. Why care about such things? I think I last saw her with Gio, so good luck to her.
Reality is getting clouded. I feel nervy and tipsy. Sindee has twice broken away from her new lover to tell me she has something to show me in our room. I’ve been put in with her – a special booking that manager Max had to somehow arrange, even though he must have known there was no way Sindee wasn’t going to end up in Cas’s bed. I’m guessing they have booked out this whole swanky establishment at great cost, for just such eventualities. Thunderhed didn’t get off stage until 11 so it must be past one now, but we are all essentially nocturnal and tiredness isn’t beating me just yet. It can’t be long though, surely. Sindee is looking bright-eyed and wet-mouthed: a sure sign she needs action soon. I’m not sure how this is meant to progress. It just seems bizarre in this world I frequent, where people end up in bed together at the drop of a hat, that I still have no clue how to instigate such things. I cannot bring myself to simply tell her, if she has things to show me in our room, to just go ahead and take me there. If I don’t ask she will lose patience and recall that she has all the night’s fun she needs in Cas.
“Do I need my camera?” I ask her. “It’s in our room.”
Bag Man is in charge of logistics and he had our stuff last, so its current location is only a presumption. However, it’s the only way I can think of to bring the subject of our room up without giving her an actual come-on. Fortunately she sees right through me.
“Then we had better go and get it, hadn’t we?”
Our room is actually a suite; all swanky modernity and crisp whites. All this cost for a room Cas surely has no intention of having her sleep in. I had visions of the sunken bath being the place she would want to get me. I am sent up alone with promises that she will follow close behind. I don’t know why she needs to delay but I’m guessing she needs to tell Cas where she is going. She wouldn’t want him thinking other men had led her astray. The nerves are weakening my legs now. I am almost hoping she will simply locate the camera and usher me to his room to do my photographic duty. When she comes in the world seems to slow down and I am a strange mix of heavy limbs and light fluttering insides.
“I want to see the gift I bought you,” she announces, without even letting me gather my thoughts. I just stand there silenced. For all my fighting prowess I cannot see how not to capitulate. She is right there. I smell her sweet Loverdose perfume, her calling card, just as it was Elowen’s. Smelling it means only good things to come. She isn’t going to wait for me to act. The zip and buttons of my skirt are easily dealt with and it falls to cover my shiny stiletto-heeled ankle boots. I can hear my faltering breath. She is close enough to feel it.
“You look gorgeous,” she tells me, but she isn’t looking at the panties at all. She is looking only into my eyes. One black-nailed fingertip stokes at the material at my crotch, sending electric prickles through me there and down into my numbed legs.
“I have something else for you too,” she says. “Stay still.”
I couldn’t move if I tried. She goes to the bags from our earlier shopping trip, put on the bed by our dutiful Maori bodyguard. She brings the straps made of neoprene. There is no ceremony needed. She can just do these things. She drops to her knees in front of me and does her thing. Straps go around both my wrists in turn, secured by Velcro and hanging long. The material is soft but tight and kind of clingy. Straps around wrists are going to lead to restraint, no question, but I don’t move. The method of binding me is laughably simple. The length of strap is then put around each thigh in turn, high up, just below my backside, and these are also tightened against me and Velcro-d in place. Thus my arms are now securely held at my sides. She smiles now that she has me where she wants me.
“There’s more,” she says. She means the gag. She brings it and whispers for me to open up. In goes the silicone cock head, its shape pressed to my tongue making me feel instantly slutty. “At any time, if ever you want me to stop, you just have to tell me.”
Of course I could make noises that let her know even if I cannot now form proper words. I could simply shake my head. But we both know this is the perfect solution: she is going to do it unless I tell her otherwise and I cannot apparently refuse. I’ve been given the option but haven’t the ability to say no. It is ingenious and I could kiss her for it, if not for the gag. Think of all those kisses Elowen used to give me but there will be none here. Kissing is what lovers do but she wants to fuck me, to show me that there is nothing to fear from not giving away your heart every time.
She strips for me, slowly. The top comes off first because she is so proud of those titties of hers. She holds them up for me like porn stars do, squeezing them and pinching her nipples with those sexy piercings. As always it is her tattoos that catch the breath in my lungs. I adore ink on girls, especially all down slender arms. Such intricacy and animation and brilliance: enough to stop me dead. I have studied hers in such close detail, more so when she is asleep. I can’t quite quantify what it is about them – the spirit it shows, perhaps; the dirtiness; the free expression. I wish I had that same confidence. I know if I got one the rest would snowball.
She kicks off her heels, even higher than the ones I’ve got on. The height drop would make her look suddenly vulnerable if not for those proud tits and the ink on her body. The leopard-skin leggings are next, her hips slowly wiggling side to side as they come down. I already know she is bare beneath. Most girls would have a sense of shyness. She runs a middle finger provocatively up her little slit.
“One last thing,” she informs me. It is a blindfold, the patches for the eyes as big as lenses in aviator sunglasses to make sure all light is blocked out. I want to see her but I’m glad of this darkness. It helps rob me of my guilt. She stays close. We would be nose to nose if not for my heels and instead I feel her breath at my throat. Her hands go to my shoulders and I know she has to go on tiptoes to reach my ear. Her tongue flicks at my lobe and she gathers it in and holds it between her teeth. Such little things leave me beaten. With her weight against me her hands go behind, expertly dealing with the clips and zip of my bustier so that it is quickly pulled clear to leave my little bare tits bouncing free.
I expect lips there. I can’t ask for them but I feel the blood rush as my nipples swell, trying to send out their own urgent message. She keeps close, on tiptoes still so that her breasts squash to mine. Her hands are still at my back, painted nails lightly grazing the skin there, raising my hairs. Down they go until she is clasping my bottom in both hands, gripping it hard, just like Cas did to hers last night. She presses into me and sighs, hands still busy, like my soft cheeks are dough to knead.
“I love your bum,” she whispers to me. “I’ve wanted to lick it from the moment I first saw you.”
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Thank goodness for the blindfold so that she can’t see in my eyes what such dirty words do to me. She will see the flush in my cheeks though, the extra rise and fall of my chest. Her mouth continues the tease at my ear and neck to ensure the shivers cannot leave me. The hands reluctantly come off my rear and go to my hips, pushing in where my forearms are held close to my body. One simultaneous deft tug either side sees the bows securing my thong undone. I feel the cool against my wetness as the scant protection drops to the floor. Even with my wrists at my sides she has left me nude, something she couldn’t have done if I was in my normal choice of knickers. They would have needed to come off before the restraints went on, and that would have meant me agreeing to bare myself ready for seduction rather than having no choice. Her ingenuity again leaves me thrilled. How could you fail to fall for a girl who puts so much consideration into how to get you naked and willing?
“I must be the only person who knows that isn’t the only cock you have ever had in your mouth. Cas thinks you are a lesbian. I reckon he wants you all the more for it. I saw on his face how much he wanted to fuck you last night after he had given you that spanking you so enjoyed. I think you would both have loved it so I’m glad I’ve been able to assure him he is not wanted there. You would be quite a danger to me if I hadn’t managed to convince him you were only into girls. Come with me.”
She impels me forward with a hand at the back. The restraints barely restrict my walking at all. She backs me into one of the bar stools and tells me to sit, helping me up. I had little time to survey this suite but you couldn’t help but note the raised swanky modern area with bar top and chrome framed stools with their white leather seat and back pads. I am almost used to being housed in such luxury now. I hook my heels over the circular support near the bottom of the legs. She immediately spreads my thighs, leaving me open. My wrists jerk at my sides – an instinct to act to cover my exposure. Her hands stay at my thighs and I know she is kneeling now.
“You know Cas wants to see me fuck you, don’t you? He loves watching sexy girls together. Since he can’t have you I think it’s only fair I give him this treat, don’t you? Tell me if you don’t want me too.”
She knows I can say nothing, even if the thought of wilfully performing for others has the blood bubbling in my veins. Surely she doesn’t mean now? I can feel the wetness seeping out of me. There is a cool breeze there, on my hot clit. She is gently blowing.
“He wants to watch me kiss your tight, slippery pussy,” she says. I am quivering. Thank God, once more, for the blindfold, protecting me from this stark rudeness. I cannot begin to think of using such words out loud but for her it is done with ease. Porn stars and rock performers have it as second nature. Then lips touch me there in the lightest of contacts, which still has my hips jerking.
“He wants me to tease your tiny little clitty with my hard nipples.”
I gasp as a blob of thick saliva lands upon the very part of me he wants her titties to tease. It sticks and coats it and then eases downwards. It is an unhurried, tantalising ooze down my slit, to join with the slickness already there. Then the breeze from her blowing is on me again; the contrasting cold on my heat exacerbated now because of the extra wetness she has added, making me sigh and writhe in my seat. I need a warm mouth to close upon me there and she doubtless knows this.
“He wants to stroke his rock hard cock right by your face as he watches me lap your juicy puss.”
Her words have a magical effect and it’s like I can suddenly feel the heat of his erection so close to my cheek, feel his massive presence at my side. However, I can’t dwell on this because her tongue is already doing as she said, parting my wetness, the tip just inside, travelling upwards. She stops short. I know I am pushing forward for more but she still wants to tease. All this time she has claimed to want me and now she is intent on making me wait. More gentle laps come. She is happy to keep this up for what seems like an eternity: little tongue-tip flicks just at my opening, the cool mini gusts blown on me above. I would scream for more if I could. I feel the drool pooling around the cock-head filling my mouth. I would have to see to myself, like some wanton hussy, if I could get my hands free. Then it comes, at last.
“He wants to watch me sink my tongue right inside that hot, saturated cunt of yours.”
I don’t get a chance to colour and whimper from these filthiest of words. She does what she says and I am moaning into my gag and writhing in the damp patch I’ve left on the leather. Her tongue goes deep and her nose presses to me. She will feel my desperate throb there. I know her mouth and cheeks will be coated in my bliss. She will look like the most beautiful, pussy-hungry slut. Finally her lips close over my clit, bathing me in wet heat. Did a co-star give her tips or was she born knowing exactly how to do this? Imagine doing it for the cameras. I cannot help think that is what is happening now, with me here oblivious in my blindfold. Since she mentioned Cas’s hard cock I cannot shift the sense that he is here doing exactly as she said. I can almost feel his breath on me, so close is his inspection; hear the tiny, barely perceptible noise of the button being pressed on the camera to catch the action.
“He wants to see my fingers in your dirty snatch,” she says, and they are there, sliding deep, stirring and curling within the hot pool she has made of my insides. Her lips cease their sucking before I can come.
“Most of all, he wants to watch me spank you.”
My muscles spasm and try to clench hard but her fingers have slipped free. I am left shaking and desperate. She is pulling me up off my seat and leading me on jelly legs across the room. She puts me on my knees and eases me forward over the bed, my backside out and my still restricted hands flat to the outsides of my thighs. She uses her nails to sensitise my skin in readiness. Then fingers slip back inside me and I feel her mouth at my rump. Her teeth close on the flesh here and there, or her lips open wide against it so that she can suck in mouthfuls of soft, defenceless bum. Then her tongue is there between my cheeks, probing and lapping, all wet and shockingly, deliciously, shiver-inducing.
The smacks come without further warning, those other fingers still inside me, being gripped and saturated. Her hand is so much smaller than her lover’s and the strikes have less weight behind them but still they carry spite and land in a rapid flourish, so that the sting is harder to absorb. It is a swift barrage and then a pause during which her mouth is back at me, biting and sucking, or the tongue flickering at my tight little opening or pushing to try and force an entry. I press my face into the bed covers to hide my shame. As soon as the second wave of slaps land I know she will soon have me coming. The fingers curl downwards inside me, stroking that sweet spot. The sharp, searing, gorgeous slaps land in a fury and then her tongue goes to work. The climax is unstoppable, building as hard as any I have known before it finally breaks over me.
The spanking stops as my orgasm hits and it is just mouth and fingers at work, keeping the bliss ongoing. It seems so long until she finally lets me be. I feel the constriction ease at my thighs and then she is crawling up my body to whisper that she will be back for me later. I feel something at my side, hard and cool, purposefully placed there by her. I stay exactly as I am for some time. Eventually the discomfort of the gag has me finding that my hands, as suspected, are now free. The gag and straps come off but for some reason I want to keep the blindfold on, as if light is too much to bear, too easily bringing back a reality in which I have to face my shame. I find my way under the covers and wait for her, trying to stay awake, but I can’t.
I don’t know if she returned to find me fast asleep and left me there but I doubt it. The thing she placed at my side was the camera, still there atop the covers. In the morning light I study it and there I am for all to see, frame after frame, the history of her shagging me, from the moment her tongue first went to work. You can see me in all my rude detail: all open and wet; all stuck out and asking for it; all red and tongue-fucked. They are no contrived selfies, these pictures. The angles and details qui
ckly show that these were all taken by a third party. He had been there from the time she sat me on the bar stool. He saw it all, heard all my moans and sighs and whimpers, saw what she did to me when she bent me over. The breath on my neck and the top of my head was actually felt, not imagined. That mind’s eye stiff cock pictured close to my cheek was really there, being stroked, just as Sindee said it was. I don’t know if all this makes me feel greater mortification or greater exhilaration.
I take to the sunken bath, since that is where I imagine she might most like to seduce me next. I notice there is no evidence of the punishment she dealt me. The board has been wiped clear, ready for next time. I wonder how I would deal with a properly severe spanking, rather than the semi playful ones I have so far received. My extremities are wrinkling in the water when she eventually shows up. As before there is little sign that the night before is anything to dwell upon. She doesn’t fall for my naked-in-the-luxury-tub come-on. My guess is she is only ten minutes on from her last fuck. Her hand does slip beneath the surface though, one finger finding it’s why down to lightly stroke between my legs.