“I don’t think so, Anna,” I replied, unreassuringly. In truth, I had no doubts at all, but I enjoyed Anna off balance. I chuckled at the thought, because I knew the sentiment was mutual. We’ve played with each other a long time, after all.
I took hold of the side of the wooden arm that extended under the handgrips and heaved up, as if really trying to flip the device. Anna’s face betrayed a momentary shock as she cursed and grabbed the grips. Her heels barely touched the floor before I let up my effort, and she rocked back and forth for a while.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Laz—” She did sound pissed now. I had scared her, just a little.
“Don’t worry, Anna, I promise you’re safe—from this, anyway.”
Anna just looked at me, starting to go quiet, shadowed. Beautiful.
There are limits to foresight; Anna’s shirt, bra and panties all presented removal problems. I could have slipped her top off by releasing one arm at a time. She might even have acquiesced, though likely not after my rocking tease. Besides, this wasn’t about asking cooperation. Not after that last strap was secure. Fortunately, my workshop held a fair number of useful tools, and Anna had changes of clothes in her overnight bag.
I pulled my ridiculously large-for-the-task leather cutting shears off the wall. The first slide of the blade bottom against the skin of her back resulted in a sharp intake of breath, with a “Lazslo!” as the shears took their first bite of shirt and bra strap together. I methodically, silently, cut her top into enough ribbons to slide out from between her skin and the polished wood; she said nothing else as I did it. There really is something about destroying clothing. For a moment I paused, entertaining the idea of getting her bag and cutting up everything else she’d brought, right in front of her. I imagined Anna was thinking along the same lines when her body shivered under the half-closed blade.
With the shreds of her top littering my floor, I turned to her panties. One snip by each thigh and an easy pull. Smooth cotton, new; wet in the crotch. I decided to leave the stockings. They were, we both knew, one of my many personal weaknesses.
“That’s much better.” I said, watching Anna breathe, not quite panting yet. I walked around to where she could turn her head to see me as I undressed. I didn’t make a show of it, but I did watch her eyes follow the revelation of my skin. My cock, hard since she first stretched out on my device, sprang free from my boxers in an almost comical manner, but neither of us was laughing now. “Much better,” I repeated. Anna’s eyes flashed dark as she licked her lips. A small bead of perspiration graced her temple.
I stepped over to the utility sink and filled a clean glass with water, taking a sip myself before coming over to offer it to her. She shook her head, declining. I shrugged and set the glass on one of the worktables, then came back to beautiful Anna bent over the thing I’d made for her. I grasped the main lever once again and rocked her gently back and forth.
“The rocker can go both ways,” I said, using my best pedantic voice. “I can let you back down onto your feet, or I can go the other way.” Dark wood creaked as I demonstrated.
“How...convenient.” Anna’s hands gripped hard as I moved her. Her quip lost its sarcastic bite in the huskiness of her voice.
“Oh, it’s not mere convenience, Anna. It’s art. I mean, look at you. You’re stunning.” I paused to take in her whole length appreciatively before bending to whisper in her ear. “Did you know I made the straps just strong enough to hold you? There’s even the chance I miscalculated and you could break free if you really tried.”
I stepped back and continued. “Art and design, form and function. Really just this one lever can move the entire thing with a little effort, raising you right up to my mouth, so I can give you a good kiss without having to bend over.”
I pushed the lever, holding its stop, ratcheting the big internal wooden gears loudly as Anna’s rear end raised higher and higher. Her hands almost reached the floor as the wooden curve rolled under her. Each bump of the gears was designed to jar the solid structure, and I felt it do so through my free hand, just below Anna’s side.
“Jesus, Laz. You’re just e-evil.” I believed from her voice that she felt and heard everything as I’d intended it. It thrilled me, and made my cock twitch in anticipation.
“Now I can give you all the preparation you need easily,” I said, stepping back behind her. God, it was perfect. Anna’s ass was right up in the air, her parted legs revealing her pink, swollen cunt at exactly my mouth level. I leaned in just a little bit to inhale her spicy sweetness, and was unable to stop until my lips pressed against her and my tongue was diving. We groaned together as I feasted like a man who hadn’t eaten proper food in months. In a way, I hadn’t. It took minutes before I could pull myself away, minutes in which Anna’s cunt flooded against my tongue, and her muscles twitched and clutched at me when I stuck it as deep in her as I could. Her gasps and coos were hypnotic enough that I could have continued hours just listening to them. But I had other plans.
“Not”—I was close to panting now, too, pulling my head from between her thighs—“that you really needed any extra lubrication there, dear Anna, but this way I can get your ass ready, too.” A single squeeze of the release handle and the whole device clunked back one loud step, presenting Anna’s tight little pucker to me. Anna made a squeaking sound at the sudden jerk, and then another as I reverently placed each of my hands on her soft cheeks and pulled them apart, to allow my tongue to delve and dig once again against this more resistant opening. Anna’s sounds were different, too, more distressed at first, then more base and guttural. I felt the rumbling of two awakening beasts now, hers as well as mine.
I loved the way she squirmed each time I forced my tongue into her, but my saliva wasn’t going to be enough, if it came down to it. I pulled away and opened another little panel set flush in the smooth-faced wood between her legs. Hidden within was a container of lubricant—practical, if mundane. All Anna could know of what I was doing was what the vibrations and clicking of the opening and closing of the panel told her, until I spread her cheeks again and added a cool, generous dollop of the stuff right where it needed to be.
“Lazslo... What—what do you have planned?”
I could hear her trying to collect herself, instinctively trying to reassert control over herself and the situation. We were both given to that, and both of us, sometimes, needed to be broken of it.
“I’m not sure yet, Anna,” I lied, and she knew it.
I wiggled my index finger past her clenching sphincter, pushing the lube up her clutching back passage as a moan pushed from her lips.
“We’re going to play a game. The game of ‘Which Hole?’”
“Wh—?” Before she could fully respond, I released the lever, and let the groaning, clacking device roll her back down. Whatever the question on her lips had been died as she lowered back into place, and turned into a sharp inhalation as her descending cunt met my upturned cockhead.
“Which hole, Anna?” I asked, taking hold of the main lever and rocking her back just a little farther, the head of my cock slipping up from her split labia to kiss up against her anus.
“Which hole should I fuck? Which should I come in?” I pushed the lever, sliding my cock back to nudge her cunt open just the tiniest bit.
“You’re not...”
“No, not today, my pet. This game is high stakes.”
“Oh, Lazslo...” Reproach colored her voice, castigating me for the breach. We always used protection; except for those times Anna had been on the pill for herself or other lovers, it was a hard and fast rule. Except for that one time we swore we’d never repeat, it was a given we’d both lived with since our first time together, and I’d just broken it. And it wasn’t just that. I’d tongued her rear end before, fingered her, even slid two up her backside while I went down on her, all to wonderful effect. But in all our time together, I’d only fucked her ass once, when we were both stoned nearly mad, and that had been
less than satisfying for both of us. We’d always had enough other limits to push, other boundaries of pleasure to explore, that this one always slid by.
Anna’s muscles flexed—legs, arms. She tested the strength of her bonds in earnest, and I listened to the leather and wood creak as she strained. I rocked her gently back and forth, my cock nudging her ass, then her cunt, and back again. Her sounds changed as I pressed against each entrance.
“This—ah! This isn’t fair, Lazslo.” I heard how upset, even angry, she was. But underneath it...underneath it was that tremble, and each time my cock slid between her cunt lips, it sluiced into a new flood of her juices. I knew if I looked there’d be a veritable rivulet dripping down the wood between her legs.
“No. It’s not.” I said. Butterflies turned in my own stomach—something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Transgression. We both knew I was, right now, changing something that had been a comfortably edgy, stably twisted given for each of us for over twenty years. I’d thought about this for a long time.
“Tell me, Anna, which one are you more fearful of?”
“I’m not afraid of you, Lazslo,” she whispered.
“Liar.” God, I wanted it to be a lie. And I wanted it to be the truth at the same time. The turbulence of that conflict and the others within me—within her—was the Now I sought, a place and time where everything outside the sphere of the physical senses and base reactions was just static. “Pick.”
Maybe she was afraid. Or just mad, or defiant. Whatever the case, she didn’t answer as I rocked her back and forth, the wood creaking deeply, ominously, but her body told me what I wanted to know. It was the way she tensed whenever my cock slid up and settled in to press against that lubed hole, and the little whimper she couldn’t suppress.
“I think it’s...yes,” I locked the lever in place, feeling the sharp snap of the wooden ratchet even through Anna’s body. She groaned and shook her head as my cock stopped sliding and instead nuzzled against the little pucker of her ass. Until that moment, I hadn’t decided what I had wanted more: to fuck Anna bareback, and play the serious game of roulette, or to take her ass—really take her—for the first time. However, when I heard that first soft, high-pitched keen as I tested her, it all collapsed into a single driving want. I positively hummed.
“Anna. Have you any idea what a gratifying sound that is to hear from you? How I love hearing it?” I think she knew, because she shuddered and pulled hard again at the leather. I brought my hands back to each of her cheeks, digging in just a little and pulling them apart. Fuck, the sight of that “forbidden” connection, the menacing potential of it, the feel of being poised right there—it made me boil. I leaned gently forward.
“I’m not going to fuck you—yet. I’m going to let gravity do the work first.” I kept speaking, because we both like words. “God, Anna, I got the angle just perfect. The only thing keeping me out right now is the resistance of your muscles.”
Anna groaned, her whole body clenched.
“It’s true. With all that slippery stuff, I should slide right in to you. I feel you all tense and closed under my hands, against my cock. But you’re already shaking with the effort of keeping me out.”
Everything about this scene said I was doing something wrong, something bad. I didn’t care. Hell, the exultation, even gloating, in my voice was pretty clear. Anna, I’m sure, heard it, too.
“D-damn you, Lazslo.” Her teeth clenched as she spoke.
“I know, love. I know,” I said soothingly, disingenuously. “You have me so damn wound up. I want to fuck you so bad, so hard. I’m aching for it, Anna. But I won’t—I can’t start until you’ve let me in. All the way in.”
By now I was almost not recognizing my own voice from the tension in it, and I knew it was affecting her, as well. This game of word and want is what we played, though I’d raised the stakes unilaterally this time. “Anna, it’s no small act of will, on my part, not to grab your hips and just force myself into you.”
I let my hands slide up to caress and settle gently into the familiar, delicious swell of her hips. Her moan choked into a gasp followed by held breath. It would be so easy. But no. I dragged my fingers back to her ass and spread it again. Had the head of my cock made just a little progress, her passage giving and opening just a little for me?
“We have all the time in the world, Anna. Whenever you’re ready, just let me in. Just a little bit. If you relax your ass, I’ll start to sink in, and it will all take care of itself.”
“It’s g-going to hurt.”
“It might, Anna. Less if you let go.”
“God!”
“God is right. You look so fucking heavenly from here. Your whole backside is a temple, my Anna.”
“F-fucking cliché.”
I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. And Anna’s ass trembled and relaxed the smallest bit.
“N—!”
“Ohhh, yes, Anna. I’m in the perfect place. Fight it as much as you want.”
She did—oh, how she did. Every millimeter was a struggle of renewed frantic efforts, clenching her ass, pulling at her bonds. I was so sensitized and attentive to that junction that I felt everything. My breathing changed, deepening as I felt and watched my flared head pushing her inexorably open. Every new nerve touched as I penetrated her seemed to result in a new, tremulous whimper from her.
“You know it’s inevitable, Anna. We both do.”
She shook her head, but the groan that came from her wasn’t of denial. Another followed it, lower pitched, as the widest part of my cockhead made its way past her failing resistance.
“Oh, Anna, this is so wrong. So hot. I mean how can you let this rigid thing into your ass? Look at your muscles distending around my shaft. It’s just awful. But there it is; I’m almost there. You’re flaring open around me.” My voice was rough enough almost to be a growl.
“Lazslo—” It was almost a whine, followed by a little grunt as my cockhead passed into her and her ring muscle closed around it.
“Mm, that’s it, Anna. That’s it.”
“It...it hurts, Laz.”
“Relax.”
“I...”
“Try. Relax and it’ll go easier.” We were both educated. We knew the truth and limitations of that statement, and what her relaxing would mean.
I felt her. Her muscles fluttered, squeezing, trying to prevent entry, pushing to expel me, and, when she could assert the control, relaxing to let me slip deeper. It was an exquisite battle to feel around my cock, to see in the shaking and sweat of her body, to hear in the ragged breath and tortured sounds coming from her throat. I slid my hands up to rest on Anna’s rump as gravity brought me into her.
As I bored in, the contractions of her muscles mattered less and less, though they still affected how quickly I impaled her. Anna’s sounds changed, too, coming deeper from her chest as my cock found its way deeper into her ass. When my legs first touched hers, they were trembling even though they weren’t supporting her weight.
“Oh, Anna, can you feel me? My cock loves this so much.”
“Yess...you’re taut as a spring.”
“I’m trying not to fuck you like an animal. Just yet. Not until I’m all the way in.”
“And then...”
“And then I’m going to let it all go, Anna. Everything. I promise.” This time it was my teeth that were gritted.
“Oh, yes, Lazslo.” Fuck. There it was. That tone in her voice. Beyond hunger or fear.
Then, for the last few moments there was silence, except for our labored breathing. I slid my hands up Anna’s back, sweat-slick now as my hips first touched and then pressed into the flesh of her ass. My eyes were half-closed, and I imagined hers were, too. When I felt my weight settle against her, my cock buried in the squeezing heat of her ass, I groaned louder than the creak of the wood, and she hummed, laying her head on the smooth wood between her outstretched, slack arms.
My hands reached her shoulders and gave her a masseur’s squeeze before dr
agging gently back down over her sides to settle on her hips once more. This time, as my fingers found their grip there, it was with purpose and finality. Anna knew that grip well. I closed my eyes, just feeling everything. Potential. Inevitability. The forever and ephemeral nature of this moment—of us two here, now.
“Anna,” I whispered.
“Yes, Lazslo,” she responded, equally quiet.
“I’m going to fuck you now. Fuck your ass. Until...” My words trailed off because my heart was hammering too fast to figure out what to say. I heard a sound. It might have been her; it might have been me.
I heard another sound. It might have been “Show me.” It might have.
THE NECKCLOTH
Annabel Joseph
The Countess of Waverly backed across the candlelit bedroom. “If you were a gentleman, you would not do this.”
Her husband chuckled. “If you were a lady, there would be no need.”
He strode toward her, a column of stark black and pristine white formal evening clothes. She scrambled behind a settee, gathering up her pink silk skirts with her heart beating in her throat. “I did not write that letter to Lord Eversham. I swear to you, I didn’t write it.”
“My dear, your perfume was all over it.” He flicked the paper in his hand. “As was your atrocious handwriting. You are caught.” He surveyed the chintz-upholstered settee between them. “Do not infuriate me by making me chase you.”
She feinted left, but he moved right and caught her easily. Curse him, he knew all her tricks. His hands fastened on her shoulders and he gave her a little shake. “Eversham, Posey? Eversham? If you must throw yourself at one of my contemporaries, let it be someone worthy of your”—he threw a look down her plunging bodice—“prodigiously wanton charms.”
She cracked him across the cheek.
“Oh, do it again with the glove off,” he murmured. “That was pathetic.”
She ripped off both gloves in a temper and pushed against his chest. “You are so cruel to me, Thomas. You mock me. You ignore me and run around London with your friends. At least Eversham notices me. You only notice me when I’m bad.”
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