by Jane Nin
Feeling lonely, I tried to search in the room for Jack. But Anne had lowered the lights, and with the spotlights in my eyes and the mask fitting poorly, it was nearly impossible for me to see out into the small crowd. And then I found him, at the back, watching. Telltale glass of wine in his hand. He raised it and took a slow, thoughtful sip. Of course he couldn’t see where I was looking, either.
I had half a mind to ask Anne to bring him up, but I knew that was contrary to the spirit of the evening. So I kept my mouth shut. Tried not to pay attention to my mounting need to pee.
“William, perhaps you’d like a turn,” said Anne now.
The man stepped forward who’d been heckling May—her boyfriend, I guessed, or maybe just her friend. He was tall and swarthy, with thick eyebrows and a huge shock of dark, curly hair. He stood in front of me and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then unbuckled his belt and tugged down his velveteen pants. He wasn’t wearing underwear; his large cock sprang forth joyfully as he peeled off the tight slacks. He stood there grinning leeringly, was like some 1970s porn star, ropily muscled and hairy as a gorilla. When I’d been a teenage girl even a little chest hair had bothered me, but now in the full of womanhood I found hairy men strangely compelling, and as he stood before me dark and grinning and erect I felt myself straining toward him like a planet bent to orbit. I’d forgotten I needed to pee. I was wriggling and wet, my pussy contracting involuntarily as if it could somehow draw forth that magnificent cock and persuade it to bury itself in nature’s perfect design.
My hungry twisting and shuddering was exaggerated by the rope, and William stepped toward me and reached out for my breasts, then stopped in mid-air, maybe a half an inch from my skin. I tried to thrust my chest out further, to meet his hand, but he grinned and drew it backwards an equal distance.
“Please,” I said, prompting his grin to widen.
He proceeded to glide his hands all over me without ever actually touching my skin. They skimmed my ribs, my belly, my upper thighs. Back up, again not touching my breasts, then grazing the fine hair along the back of my neck. And now with his mouth he made as if to descend upon one nipple, but stopped short, touching me only with his hot breath.
Then he dropped to his knees and brought that mouth equally close to my soaking pussy. Just breathing on me, and not touching. Though when his shoulder bumped my inner thigh, I realized he was touching himself.
“Oh,” said Anne, “yes, I love that. Lay on the floor, would you? Just right underneath her.”
To my dismay even the promise of being touched was removed now as William lay on his back on the floor. Because of the way I was arched outwards, I could see his face and shoulders and nothing else. His eyes were trained on my pussy, or moved between my pussy and my breasts, and his shoulder and upper arm jerked quickly as he stroked his cock, which I could not see. I wanted it inside me, so badly.
He closed his eyes and his arm moved faster. “Yes,” urged Anne, “just like that, this is great.”
As he jerked himself off he began to groan, or growl—a low, animal sound that only stirred my lust further. Involuntarily I moaned a response, whining, whimpering, arching toward him futilely on my line.
He grew steadily louder, his eyes squeezed shut now, his teeth bared and his tongue protruding just beyond his lower lip. I was so incredibly aroused by all the teasing that as he began to climax, my breath caught in my throat and I cried out a little, very nearly coming along with him. But not quite.
He came hard, shuddering beneath me, shoulders bucking backwards against the floor. After the release he began to laugh, eyes closed, and then his laughter subsided and he just stayed where he was, smiling angelically, contented.
Meanwhile I was maddeningly untouched. I closed my eyes, hung my head. Wondering if I could just think myself to orgasm.
“Going to sleep, are we?” came a sarcastic voice just beside me, and I opened my eyes. Valerie again, looking down at William, still on the floor. “Here,” she told him, tossing some napkins down onto his chest.
She’d brought me another drink. Once again she carefully placed the straw between my lips. I hesitated to drink, concerned about my already full bladder. But I’d been panting, I realized, and my throat was parched. I swallowed, and she murmured to me.
“You really wanted to fuck him, didn’t you? You liked that big prick of his? Wanted to feel it sliding into your cunt?”
I nodded, losing my grip on the straw. She went to put it back.
“I shouldn’t,” I said, “I already have to go to the bathroom.”
“God’s sake, why didn’t you say so?” laughed Valerie. “You could have pissed on the man.”
“I don’t… I’m not… really…”
“It’s alright, love. Nothing you don’t want. That’s the deal you struck, yeah?”
“How do you know that?”
“What’s your name? Sylvie? Well, we’ve played with Jack before.”
I hated this. I’d had my suspicions, of course, but I’d wanted them to stay just that. Now here was confirmation: there were games before me, women and games. Meanwhile he’d calmly watched me now with nearly a dozen men. Acknowledging that my jealousy was hypocrisy didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Please,” I said, “I don’t want to know.”
“Uh-oh, you quite like him, don’t you?” She paused, relented in her teasing tone. “I don’t blame you. He’s a handsome bloke, and charming. Generous, too, or so I hear.”
My arousal was nearly erased now, leaving only the pain of my full bladder. “Can you tell Anne I have to use the bathroom?”
“Sure, love,” said Valerie, and walked away. A moment later she returned. “She said I’m to help you.”
“Help me…?”
I was afraid they’d make me pee right there, and I didn’t want to. Not anyway, and especially not now. What I wanted was Jack.
“No, not here, don’t worry. But we won’t undo all the rope. Just the part from the ceiling, yeah? I’ll keep you from getting tangled. Sit tight.”
She left and returned again, this time with a step stool. Carefully she unhooked the lines suspending my arms. I couldn’t quite lower them, though, because of the tension on the part that crossed behind my head. I stood with elbows bent and palms up, like I was being apprehended.
Nor could I walk in normal steps thanks to the connections all along my legs. In an instant I’d gone from a figurehead to a curiosity, graceless and strange. I had no idea how I’d sit on a toilet. I walked awkwardly beside Valerie as she guided me out of the light and toward a hallway. Again I searched for Jack, but the mask gave me tunnel vision—all I could see was Valerie, gently leading me forward.
Then, to my relief, we walked through a doorway and she slid it shut behind us. We were in private, in a huge bathroom tiled all over with slate.
I shuffled ahead of her to the toilet. “Do you mind?” I asked her.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” she said, “Seen a bird take a piss before.” But she still politely turned away. Switched on the water at the sink.
I lowered my oiled-up bottom to the toilet and sat, and after a moment I relaxed enough to pee. I was grateful for the running water, to cover my self-consciousness a little further.
As I finished, though, I realized I couldn’t reach the paper to wipe myself. I stayed still for a moment, composing myself for what I would have to ask.
“Um, Valerie?”
And she switched off the sink and stepped toward me, holding a cloth that I realized she’d been wetting. She had known before I did what I’d need.
“Oh, god,” I said, blushing.
“Shh,” she said, “it’s not anything,” and she reached with the cloth between my legs—it was warm, deliciously so—and gently but firmly wiped me clean. The warmth of the cloth against my labia instantly reminded my body to be aroused. My nipples hardened, and I shivered violently, just a single, all-over shudder.
Valerie set aside the cloth and no
w helped me to stand again. “Poor thing,” she said, “they’ve got you in quite a state, haven’t they.”
My breaths were getting shorter as my arousal climbed, and with my hands up my breasts heaved visibly with each quick inhalation. Valerie licked her lips, looking me up and down. “You ever been with a girl before?”
I shook my head.
“Well,” she said, “then lucky me.” She bent her head to my breast, flicked her tongue against my nipple. I gasped. She did the same on the other side. Bit me ever so lightly, then clamped down, sucking and rolling my nipple in her mouth until a long moan rose from my throat.
Then she knelt before me and with a firm but gentle touch parted my labia. Truthfully I felt no hesitation over what was about to happen—I’d been craving touch for over an hour now, and my body was greedy for climax.
“This is alright?” she asked, her mouth inches from my throbbing clit.
“Yes,” I gasped, “Please.”
She did not hesitate then to bury her face in my pussy, sucking and swiping her tongue across my clit, then licking long strokes up my labia, then returning to my clit. With one hand she reached up and pinched my nipple, and her other she brought up underneath me, driving her fingers into me as deep as they would go.
I groaned, loudly. She stopped licking me long enough to reprimand me.
“Keep it down, love—they’ll be onto us.”
I tried to silence myself as she churned her fingers in and out, sucking in and letting go my clit with gentle, tiny kisses. But I couldn’t help it—I wanted her deeper inside me, so I ground my pelvis up against her, whimpering.
She stopped again, “I said to hush, now. I know what you want. Just stay right there.”
She stood and walked to the mirrored linen cabinet, swinging open the door and peering around inside. The door was angled now so I could see myself—hobbled and masked and slickly shining, my nipples dark with arousal, my pussy pink and engorged. I looked like some pornographic fever dream.
Valerie emerged from the cabinet holding a sculpted, swooping decorative bottle of bath oil. It was gently spiraled, with a rounded cap. Again I inhaled sharply, seeing her intent.
She went to close the cabinet door.
“Don’t,” I said. “I want to watch.”
She smiled, returned to me, held the bottle up for me to see. “This alright?” she said. “We’ve got dildoes of course, but they’re in the bedroom. Terrible lack of foresight.”
I nodded. “Just go gently,” I said.
“Course. Now hang on a sec—since you’re watching.”
She quickly unbuttoned her chef’s jacket, revealing a pair of smallish, perfect breasts, compact, muscled shoulders and abs. The tattoos on her arms gave way to more tattoos, waves and tendrils of plants and demons and angels crawling blackly across her tight, fit body. She loosed the drawstring on her pants and they slid down her equally muscular thighs, revealing a shaved pussy and pierced clit.
Now, tossing her clothes aside, she knelt before me once again. I watched in the mirror as she reached for the bottle and nestled the cap against me, angling it to enter the part of my body that seemed more and more insatiable.
“Yes?” she said.
“Yes,” I whispered, and she slid the bottle into me, deeper, deeper, until I felt I was as full as I had ever been and I cried out just slightly. “Stop,” I said.
She nodded, and began to withdraw the bottle, then pushed it into me again, careful to stop short of where it had hurt. And now her mouth returned to my clit, sucking at it, tonguing it relentlessly. I realized there was a stud in her tongue; the little metal ball would sweep around and across my clit, exciting me further.
In the mirror I watched her muscled back and ass as she worked the bottle in and out of me. I was moaning again, and maybe she was too engrossed to stop me, but she did not—only licked me faster and faster, fucking me with the bottle as my pussy tightened more and more against its curves, its bulbous cap.
Now, with her other hand, she slipped a finger up my ass, and that was it: I came suddenly, explosively, my pussy convulsing hard around the bottle, and my asshole clamping down on Valerie’s finger, and I shouted—I couldn’t help myself—oh fuck, oh shit, oh my god oh FUCK—
And, horribly, she was stopping, she was laughing now, and trying to shush me again, and I was dizzy from coming so hard, stumbling backwards toward the wall, and she was springing to her feet to keep me from falling, or hitting my head, and the bottle slipped from my pussy and fell and smashed into pieces on the floor, and the door slid open violently and I looked and it was Anne and the rest of the party, peering in at us, murmuring and laughing and thoroughly entertained.
“Valerie,” said Anne, and Valerie grinned defiantly as she carefully let go of me and turned to face her lover. I was worried until I saw Anne was struggling to keep a straight face, herself. “You’re a naughty girl,” she scolded. “Come along.”
It was their game I’d fallen into tonight, not my own. Okay. But where was Jack.
“Hold on,” said Anne now, “there’s broken glass. Better carry her out.”
Still naked, Valerie slipped her clogs on and moved toward me, then grabbed me around the waist and slung me over her shoulder. She was shockingly strong. The guests parted for us as we exited the bathroom and returned to the open section of the apartment.
“You’ve got a sweet pussy,” she said softly to me as we reached my corner, and she gave my ass a little smack, then set me down. I giggled, still a little lightheaded, and then she walked away and it was just me standing under the light.
Where was Jack.
The rest of the party was moving back out into the living area. I shuffled out of the light and saw fat old Harold shirtless and pushing Valerie ahead of him. His shirt had been used to tie her hands behind her back. They arrived at the dining table and he roughly leaned Valerie down on it as her assistant hurried to clear plates and glasses out of the way. He unbuckled his pants. The rest of the guests crowded around and I could see no more, but I heard her cry out, “Fuck me, you fat old bastard!” And then, “You call that fucking? What is that, a baby carrot? Somebody bring this man a weiner!”
People laughed and cheered and joined her in taunting Harold. It seemed that the party had moved on to entertainment other than myself. I didn’t really blame them. I’d been a curiosity, good for a spell, but this was Anne’s court and obviously Valerie was its defiant jester. I’d been an object, just as Jack had promised some ten days before—and nobody worried about an object once they had lost interest and moved on.
Valerie’s assistant breezed past me with a tray full of empty glasses. “Wait,” I said.
He paused; he seemed very young. Probably barely a day over 18, if even that. “Can you help me get out of this?”
As I nodded to the ropes that still held my arms above my head, I was suddenly self-conscious and I felt a blush so deep it burned my neck and my chest.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said gently. “They loved you, but now they’ve forgotten all about you.”
“I know,” I said.
“Back in a jif,” said the boy, springing back into motion with his tray.
He returned with scissors, began to cut through the lines that connected my arms to each other and then through the ones to my legs. I slipped the cut knots off my hands and they fell softly to the floor.
“Do you know who Jack is?” I asked, as he continued to cut through the ropes.
“I think so,” he said, “Sort of distinguished fellow, yeah? Slim, salt and pepper hair?”
“Yes,” I said.
“He your boyfriend?”
“I… I don’t know.” I rubbed my wrists. “Valerie said he’s come here before.”
“He might’ve,” said the boy. “I wouldn’t know. I’m new.”
He cut the last of the ropes and I slid them off my ankles and felt so glad they were gone that I nearly forgot I was naked as a jaybird. “Have you seen h
im?”
“Hmm,” he said. “Maybe not since everyone caught you two in the ladies’. He could’ve stepped out for a fag?”
“He doesn’t smoke, I think?” But for all I knew, he might.
“You don’t know?” said the boy, surprised.
I shook my head, ashamed now in a very different way. Who was this man, and how could I have thought I was falling in love with him, or he with me? We’d been living in a vacuum this past week and a half, a fantasy world of posh hotels and exotic vistas and sex games of his devising, a world where it didn’t matter that I’d quit my stupid job and had no hope of finding a better one, a world where he hadn’t yet figured out that I wasn’t special. Or maybe he had, tonight. Maybe he’d seen I was just some other slut, like however many other women he’d brought here before.