COLLECTOR
By ouija
I walk through the corridors of the huge labyrinth that is my home. It took me years to find just the right spot to set up my museum, my menagerie. I call it a museum because it would be crass to call such displays as I possess a zoo, though I am a caretaker of living creatures. I prefer to think of them as breathing works of art, since it was I who played the artist—who manipulated and molded my subjects to conform to my vision.
I chose the old, abandoned school building to house my collection because of several factors, not the least of which is its solid structure. I needed a place that I could make changes to; certain necessary adjustments to the infrastructure to accommodate my work. I also enjoy the strangeness of solitude in a place so large and seemingly accustomed to a great number of people.
As I pass from the ancient cafeteria which serves as my living quarters to the old classrooms that I have carefully redesigned, I stop at locker number 237 to pick up the food I had stored there earlier. All great art must be properly maintained.
I heft the huge sack of generic brand cereal over my shoulder and proceed towards my display. I carefully climb the old stairs that lead to the second floor. I have to stop to unlock the steel, double doors at the top of the stairs, so I fumble for a moment to find my keys with my left hand. The door finally opens with a squeal, and I begin my rounds.
The first stop is Lia. She was my earliest work, and although I sometimes wish I had used a bit more imagination in handling her, I am mostly satisfied with the results. I unlock the heavy door that I replaced the older, lighter one with, and push it open. Greeted by her muffled gasps, I am filled with sudden pride in my work. I had chosen Lia to be my first subject because of her long, straight, black hair and her pure, pale, white skin. The contrast between the two created a stunning effect. I gaze past the chains hanging from the ceiling to the large bed which occupies most of the small room.
Lia is breathtaking as she sits on her heels with her hands behind her back. Her large, brown eyes look at me in a pleading way that enhances her beauty so well. Her hair is askew, and shows traces of perspiration around her face and neck. Her slender body is almost completely sheathed in black, form-fitting latex from her neck down to her ankles with two circular openings revealing her beautiful, small-nippled breasts. The tight leather collar around her neck is fastened to the rail headboard of the bed by a seven inch length of medium gauge silver chain, and her handcuffed wrists and shackled ankles are attached to each other by similar, shorter chain lengths. A small trickle of saliva has escaped from behind the ball gag between her rose red lips, and slowly is making its way down her chin.
I walk to the small basin at the left side of the bed, put down the twenty pound sack, and pick the deep, metal bowl from the sink. After filling it with cool water, I sit on the bed next to Lia, and take the first vial from my shirt pocket. After emptying the small tube into the water, I cautiously remove the gag from her mouth. A sharp gasp escapes her lips and her pelvis convulses slightly, showing me that the vibrator trapped between her hidden lips is still functioning. I clean the spittle from her face with the drugged water and then allow her to drink deeply from the bowl. As I put down the bowl and reach for the large sack she jerks sharply, and cries out in a high pitched voice. She begins to moan uncontrollably as I open the sack and scoop out a handful of cereal. She just manages a few breathless words between moans as I turn towards her.
“Hhhnnnn...noo....please God....make it stop....AHHHAHHIIGGHH.....so tired....” Her hips begin an erratic thrusting motion in spite of her obvious attempts to control herself. I bring the handful of dry food to her quivering mouth and, tilting her head back, I pour the cereal onto her tongue. She chews messily, spilling crumbs all around as she tries to control her erratic breathing enough to eat. I brush the crumbs from around her, and pinch a tiny particle of food from her breast and place it on her lips. “Uuuuuhnnn...nnn...NO....Aghhh....can’ttakeit....” I grab another handful of the cereal from the bag and begin to admonish her for wasting so much perfectly good food.
“If you persist in throwing away the food that I give you I will just have to stop giving you any,” I say sternly. “Now, let’s try again. This time I don’t want you to drop any of it.” She continues to moan and convulse but gives me a determined look that tells me she understood what I have said, and she is ready.
I place my left arm around her shoulders and hold her tightly as I hold my right hand in front of her mouth. Her eyes are closed in concentration as she begins to eat from my hand. Her abdomen spasms uncontrollably, but she is doing very well at her task of eating. I pull close to her as she eats and begin to slowly run my tongue along her cheek towards her ear. She whimpers at the sensation and her breathing becomes more strained as I gently work in and out of her ear, but she still manages to control herself enough to not spill a crumb from my hand.
As she finishes her meal she begins to breathe more harshly. She licks the last little bits from my hand as if she were a hungry animal. I bring her face around so that I may look into her eyes. She is panting now, her spasms have grown more frequent. In her eyes I can see the conflict; the need to be freed, the desire to be fulfilled, the yearning to leave, the wanting to abandon herself to the sensations. I bring my lips closer to hers, but stop just short of touching her. She gives a throaty sigh and whimpers again. As she strains to reach me, however, I grip one of her nipples between the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. She cries out at the unexpected pain and begins to pump her hips quickly and rhythmically. Her screams of pained passion are so alluring, so arousing I can almost feel my own desire stir again. Her eyes roll behind slack eyelids, her back arches and her voice breaks into a wail as she reaches orgasm. How many she’s had since I first installed the vibrator is hard to say. I’ve been careful to check back on her quite often each day, so she always has fresh batteries to power her desire and her frustration; and she always seems to be in this same state. I do know, however, that I will have to bathe her tomorrow.
After her energy is expended Lia hangs limp in my arms. Her breathing is slow and heavy and occasionally she gasps slightly from the continued stimulation she is receiving. Her eyes remain closed as I once again buckle the gag behind her head. I prop her up against a pillow as again she starts slowly building up towards another orgasm. As much as I would like to remain and observe her again, I have other duties, other displays that need tending to.
I carry the sack and the bowl of tainted water to Kalli, a somewhat more stylized effort. I recall that I was listening to a lot of music from the sixties when I “sculpted” her from the shy girl I’d met outside of the movie theater. Her wavy blond hair and coyly smiling face drew my attention almost immediately, and I was struck by inspiration.
There is no lock on the door to Kalli; because there is practically no cause for there to be one. The wooden door swings away to reveal my homage to the sun. She stands against the wall, held there by metal restraints bolted into it. Her arms are outstretched to each side at shoulder height, and her feet are held a full yard apart in an approximation of DaVinci’s famous sketch. Her face and ears are covered by a black leather mask which blocks out all sight and muffles all sound and makes her own speech difficult and incoherent. A small, steel padlock holds the mask closed at the back of her head, and a chrome zipper in the mask face approximates a grinning mouth. The mask does not cover her entire head though. It leaves her hair uncovered and allowed me to create the stunning effect of the rays of the sun.
Her hair is combed and stretched out from her head and tightly fastened to small nails driven into the wall in the shape of a semicircle. I am sure that it is not the most comfortable situation for her to be in, since the slightest movement of her head must be very painful. Sleeping would be almost impossible. But, I’m also sure, if she could just see how striking her totally naked body looked in this way she would understand completely.
I walk towards her oblivious form, carefully propping the sack against the wall next to Kalli. Her large, lightly tanned breasts move up and down quickly with her almost frantic breaths through the small nostril holes in the mask. Her hips move back and forth as she appears to seek out contact with something, anything that could touch her. I gently touch her left breast and a muffled moan greets my touch. I lightly tease her nipple and a sharp sigh accompanies her sudden increased breathing. I reach down and tease her vagina with one long, soft pass over her clit. Her voice cracks in a muffled scream; both of frustration and of pain from an involuntary head movement.
I pull my hand away from between her legs, and hear the stifled sounds of her protest as her hips thrust in and out desperately. Perspiration forms under her breasts and along the line of her neck. Squeals of need and of pain leak out between the teeth of the zipper. I slowly pull the zipper open and her voice bursts out of its confinement and into the room.
“Ohpleaseogodogodplease!!” she cries insistently. “Letmecum! PleaseIneedit! Letmecumfuckmepleeeze!!” I position the bowl in front of her mouth and make her drink. She obviously doesn’t need the drug very badly, but she does need the water. After she has drunk deeply, she gasps for her breath and, having caught it, begins her litany of pleas again. “Fuckmefuckmefuckme! Makemecum! HelpmeGodIneedit!!” She writhes in her shackles and almost seems to ignore the pain her hair is causing her. It has been four days since I had allowed her an orgasm, and that had been after I put her to sleep for her bath. The drug was clearly worth every dime I had paid for it. I’d never seen such sexual obsession in my life.
I look down and notice a shiny streak beginning its trek down her leg. After so little physical stimulation, Kalli is all ready and willing. Amazing. I reach down into the sack and produce a handful of the dry cereal. I carefully mop her leg with the cereal and gather as much of her fluid from her pussy as I can without allowing her to come. Now I bring the moistened handful to her babbling lips and she begins to eat hungrily, enjoying her own taste mingled with the dry corn meal. She finishes the first handful and kisses and licks my hand clean of her juices. All the while she begs and pleads.
“Again...Hmmmm...doitagain...yesss! Makemetasteme... makemecum... sohungryforfood... sohungryforIT... Iwannafeelthefoodinme... Ineed... Fuckme..” The last phrase is so sexy in tone, so seductive in timbre, how can I refuse? I take another handful of food and collect her juices once again. Kalli’s legs wobble as the sensations she craves flood her senses. She whimpers and shakes and convulses as I season her breakfast with “Essence of Kalli”. And just as she is about to climax, I stop and stand back for a moment.
Her cries of pleasure turn to screams of agony. Her hips thrust and pivot in vain effort to locate my hand. She pleads once again, “Fuckmedammit! Makemecum! Icanttakeit!!! HelpmehelpmefuckmeFUCKME!!” Then she is quiet again, except for her little sobs and whimpers. I hold the second handful to her lips, and she eats the soggy food, drenched in her own cum. She once again licks my hands clean and seems to be reviving the hope that she might see some release. This hope is suddenly dashed when I zip the mask shut again. She screams and groans and shrieks as I grab the sack and bowl and leave the room; empty except for the eternally burning sungoddess.
When Richard first told me about the experimental drug he was working on, I wasn’t entirely sure what to think about it. Here was a man telling me that by synthetically duplicating certain chemicals associated with the human sex drive, he could produce a real aphrodisiac strong enough to cause anyone, anyone, to completely succumb to their bodies’ basest desires. Soon I started to think about the ramifications of such a substance; for someone to lose control, not over their lives, not over their destinies, but over their own selves. The ultimate terror and the greatest bliss could be achieved all at once. Such intense, raw, pure emotions could only find one place to reside: art. Not just plain old art, mind you, but a new and fresh form of art that somehow I had been given the vision to achieve.
But now I was at the threshold of the next exhibit: Kiras. I unlock the door and enter to gaze at my exhausted sleeping beauties. To be fair, only the athletic little brunette is named Kira. The pale redhead is named Anne, but that seemed a bit ordinary so I changed it for her. The two are of such contrasting natures that I simply had to put them together.
The Kiras are bound to each other by a three foot length of heavy iron chain padlocked to the thick iron collars around each of their pretty necks. They lie in fitful slumber, their arms around each other, on a wide, low, stone pedestal. I watch as the brunette, still asleep, lazily moves her right hand between her legs. I drop the sack just inside the entry. This is one of my more risky works; the subjects are not bound to anything in the room save each other, and I don’t want to take any unnecessary chances, so I close and relock the door behind me.
I silently move to the pedestal and the unaware forms. First I approach the redhead with her pouty lips and breasts that are almost too big. I softly lift her head and tip the bowl so the water washes against her lips. Before she is fully awake she is drinking the wondrous liquid, and by the time she is alert enough to try to protest her captivity it is far too late. She gazes at me with wide, expectant eyes as I quiet her with a gesture. We can’t have her roommate awakened too soon.
I repeat the process with the brunette, but she is a bit more alert and wakes before the drug can take effect. Her dark eyes flash open suddenly and glare with the fury of the flames of Hell as she jerks herself up into a sitting position. I barely dodge her fist as it makes its attempt to connect with my jaw. I stand well back as she lunges at me, straining against the chain at her neck. I can see anger’s blush fill her cheeks, and watch her breasts tremble with both fury and a slowly building arousal. The little redhead is awestruck; she has never seen her lover so inflamed.
“You son of a BITCH!” the brunette screams. “I’ll fuckin’ KILL you!” As she throws the threats at me, redhead Kira gently touches brunette Kira’s back. She softly massages her lover, working in small circles near the center of her back and slowly moving outward. The sensation is immediately registered on my assailant’s face, though her anger has yet to recede. “What the hell gives you the right to... to... to do THIS to anybody?!?” she spits out as she gestures into the empty air. Her breathing deepens as she continues, “I mean... I,.. I mean... I am...”
Redhead Kira’s massage has reached her lover’s shoulders, and she is breathing heavily against the base of brunette Kira’s neck, just below the iron collar. This, added to the magic my drug is beginning to work on her weakens her resistance. Beads of sweat form on her breasts and her belly as her breaths quicken. A small tear drops from her eye as she realizes that once again she has lost all control over her own body.
“I am a person, aren’t I?” she whispers in a small voice. I watch as her last bit of will power escapes her. She shudders once as redhead Kira wraps her arms around her from behind and kisses her cheek. The look of defiance that once threatened me is now replaced by pure, animal lust. She turns her gaze from me to the redhead. Leaning towards her, she slowly licks the lips of the woman that she is chained to. Suddenly, the two women are locked in a tight embrace, and their mouths kiss hungrily, as if trying to devour each other.
After quite some time, brunette begins the slow and sensual trek down redhead’s body. She moves down her neck with wet kisses, softly brushing redhead’s white skin with her lips as she approaches those over-sized breasts. Redhead arches her back with a gasp as brunette’s tongue teases and tickles first one, then the other strawberry colored nipple. She licks and then sucks the pink buds and she appears as if she were a child again, suckling her mother’s breast. But then, most mothers don’t writhe in pleasure while nursing.
Brunette continues to toy with her lovers breasts as she lowers herself once more. Tracing tiny, moist circles across her belly with an adventurous tongue, brunette now positions herself between her roommates legs. At first she licks the creases where the upper thigh meets the torso, causing redhead to gasp with anticipation and impatience. Redhead reaches down with her right hand and grasps brunette’s unkempt hair, pulling her head into the desired position. Needing no further convincing, brunette begins licking at the bright red folds of her lover’s pussy. It doesn’t take long before redhead’s hips start to buck violently against the face between her thighs. Primal cries of ecstasy fill the air as pale white arms flail maniacally against the smooth stone of the pedestal, and a head covered with blazing red hair thrashes back and forth. Sweat pours from redhead’s skin, and syrup flows from her cunt, coating brunette’s lips, cheeks, and chin as she struggles to catch every last drop in her mouth. Even as the final spasms of redhead’s orgasm die out, her partner continues tirelessly until once again she finds herself being driven wildly over the edge. Again and again the orgasms rack her body, until she is too exhausted to bear any more.
Redhead lies back on the pedestal, breathing deeply and moaning quietly. Brunette stands on the pedestal and moves so that she is straddling her lover’s head. Slowly, she crouches, and lowers herself to the parted lips that wait below her. As the cries fill the room once more, I must separate myself from this scene and get back to the business at hand. I walk behind the pedestal to the wall opposite the door and kneel to the 3′ x 4′ carpet beneath the boarded-over window. On the carpet there are four plastic dog bowls. I fill two of them with cereal from the bag, and the other two with water from the tap I had set into the wall. Now that the Kiras have been properly fed, I can move on to the next exhibit. But I keep hearing brunette Kira asking me if she was a person. That phrase threatens to stick in my mind, so I approach her once more.
She convulses uncontrollably as she rides redhead’s face. Incoherent screams force their way from her mouth as her second orgasm intensifies. Her eyes are rolling wildly in her head, and her fingers claw madly at the red hair below her. She is completely oblivious to my presence, indeed to anything but her physical need of the moment. “No,” I tell her. “You are not a person, Kira. Your inability to overcome the physical shows what you have become. Perhaps, once, you were human; but no more. Now you are only animal. A beautiful, striking and unique animal, but an animal nonetheless.” I’m not sure whether she can hear me or not. I’m not sure if she even cares about what I have just said. But I do know that her come is flowing in thick streaks down Kira’s face. I remember to lock the door as I leave.
I know that there are some who would misunderstand my art and call it the work of madness, a cruel perversion conceived in a sick mind. I know this because when my friend Richard, who developed the drug in the first place, found out about my use of it he spoke to me in those very words. He even had the audacity to threaten to inform the police of my activities. We had quite the heated debate on the morals of my efforts, but there was simply no convincing him. Imagine his surprise when I played my little joke on him.
The next exhibit is my most ambitious one yet, in my opinion. Others may seem more grand at a glance, but the domination theme played out behind this door is so circular, so paradoxical that I am continually drawn back to the question of superiority within sexuality. I look at the bowl as I approach the locked room and note that the water level is quite low. I’ll need to refill it after this stop. I quietly open the door, and enter the dark chamber.
Red light from a single lamp fills the room from the far corner. When I renovated the old classroom, I’d had considerable difficulty installing the metal pole located in the center of the room. It had to be solidly embedded in both ceiling and floor to the extent that it could not be pulled loose. Much easier was the chair that sits inches away from the pole, facing it. Simple bolts with flare locks were sufficient to fasten it to the floor solidly. The pole was fitted with chromed steel handcuffs at about waist height, and a leather “dog collar” was attached two feet higher by a six inch loop of steel fiber cable. The chair had a set of cuffs identical to those on the pole attached to it’s wooden back near it’s center, and steel shackles mounted to the outside surfaces of each front leg about five inches from the ground. The real beauty of the chair though, was the fist-sized lump of wood that was fastened to the seat about two inches in from the front edge, between where the occupants legs would be.
The blonde girl who now occupied the chair was sitting upright with her head lolling back on her shoulders. She couldn’t be more than seventeen years old. If it weren’t for the exaggerated heaving of her tiny breasts, and the loud snoring, one would imagine her to be dead. Her pretty, pink mouth hung open, inviting, even as she slept. It was the sight of that round, pouting mouth that first attracted my attention to her. Looming over her, locked tightly to the pole, is the thirty-eight year old man that she has had so much time to get acquainted with. He leans his back heavily against the pole as he tries in vain to hold on to those last precious moments of sleep. His slightly stiffening penis hangs inches from the sleeping girl’s face. I walk over to him and set the bag on the floor.
“So, Richard, are you enjoying your little stay here?” I say to him. “I’m sure you would like it even more if you would take this wonder drug. Oh well.”
“Listen asshole, the last thing I need to see when I first wake up is your ugly face. When the hell are you gonna let me go? I don’t think I’m gonna survive like this for much longer.”
“If I thought you’d leave me and my art in peace, I’d let you go now. Unfortunately, I know of your intentions to tell people. . . to rain on my little parade here. I can’t allow that.”
I notice that the girl is starting to stir. I tip the bowl over her face and pour the last bit of drugged water into her mouth. She manages to swallow almost all of it, and I once again turn my attention to Richard while I wait for her to revive fully. I grab a handful of cereal from the bag and cram it into his mouth.
“I’m afraid that the only purpose you could serve is as art anyway. The only decent thing you ever did as a chemist was to invent the drug, and even then you weren’t willing to use it. You even tried to destroy the formula for it, remember? No. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to keep you here until you are no longer useful as art: when you die.”
He begins to try to speak again, but suddenly finds his mouth filled with cereal once more. I continue to talk.
“Are we getting thirsty now? What a shame. I don’t have any water left, and if I did it would be tainted with that nasty old drug. But your little friend seems to be waking! I’m sure she’s hungry after her long nap. Feed her well.”
I step back into the dimmer light and watch as the show begins again. The blond girl (Teela, as I have named her) stares for a moment at the reluctantly enlarging organ before her mouth. She looks then at Richard’s face with mischief in her eyes and softly kisses the tip of his cock. She licks up and down the length of his shaft, now fully erect, pausing now and then to tease his balls with her lips and tongue. Richard’s head falls back as a sudden gasp escapes his mouth. Teela shifts her slight figure forward in the chair so that her pussy comes in contact with the wooden knob between her legs. She shudders, but continues to lick and tease Richard’s dick. Her forehead grows small beads of sweat as her head bobs back and forth, back and forth and her hips grind up and down, up and down.
Unconsciously, Richard thrusts his pelvis, driving his prick into Teela’s mouth. The rhythm steadies and the tempo speeds up a notch. She slurps and chokes on the seven inch penis, but never misses a beat, even as she humps the wood bulb for all she’s worth. In and out, up and down, gasps and whimpers mixing with the slurping and heavy breathing in the still air of the room. Her eyes close and a scream tries its best to push its way through her nose. Her cheeks sink inwards as she begins to suck, suck, suck the raw meat between her lips. She bucks against the wood, her first orgasm of the day beginning to form within her. Faster, she moves. Stronger, she sucks. When she feels that she is about to burst, Richard shrieks out his release and comes into her pretty, straining mouth. Sent careening over the edge, Teela can barely keep from crying out herself and losing the precious semen she now holds in her mouth. A white drop does escape her lips and begins travelling down her chin. She briefly gains enough control to swallow, and then arches her back as her climax declines. Jerking and spasming, she moans unintelligibly and then licks the final drops of sperm from Richard’s cock.
After the last drop is removed, she lengthens her licks to travel the full length of his dick again and slowly coaxes it back into an erection. As he begs her to please let him rest, she sucks first one ball, then the other into her mouth. This is how the rest of Richard’s life is to be spent: one orgasm after another, to the point of exhaustion and even physical pain. Because of his own drug, his fellow captive will tirelessly coax his sperm from him until he has breathed his last.
Once again I am struck with the paradox: Richard stands above Teela. He looks as if he were dominant over this little woman. She seems so diminutive and controlled, taking the “dirtiest, most shameful part of a man’s body” into her mouth again and again. Yet she is the one who controls his release, she is the one who forces him to come. If either one of them is in control, it must be her. Savoring the contradiction, I take my leave of them as once again, Teela feasts from Richard’s loins.
I hurriedly refill the bowl with water and mix in the drug once more. It doesn’t take me very long to do, so I nervously enjoy the slow walk to the final display. My heart beats faster as the door grows nearer, and the shaking of my hands sends a few droplets of water to the wooden floor. After two solid weeks of regular doses of the drug that has everyone else helpless, Stacie still remains stoic. The anticipation of this encounter is almost too much, and I have great difficulty unlocking the door. Is it fear that I feel? Is it anger? Is it hope? I don’t think it is any of these things, the sense is far too alien for me to define.
Finally, the door opens and I enter the room. Stacie lays, swathed in long, white bandages on the low, heavy bed. She looks like a mummy with her legs wrapped tightly together and her arms held snugly to her sides. Only her head and neck are left uncovered. I walk over to her and brush a few strands of snow white hair from her young eyes. That hair. I noticed her from two blocks away because of that hair. So pale and white, it surely belonged on the head of an eighty year old grandmother. But it was thick and full and it shone in the light;and she was no more than twenty. Her smiling eyes greeted me so warmly when I first spoke to her. Her porcelain skin was just as white as her hair; it seemed to me that she couldn’t possibly have seen the sun before the day of our meeting.
Now here she was, her thin, straight form bound into immobility. Her eyes smile at me no longer, and I feel as though my heart will break. She stares at me emotionlessly as I open my mouth to speak.
“How... How do you feel today,” I stammer.
“Same as always,” she answers. “Though the fingers on my right hand feel a bit number than usual today.”
“I’m sorry. Are you ready to try again?”
“Alright.” She says this with the same impassive tone that I have become accustomed to.
I tip the bowl to her lips and she drinks. Almost the entire bowl travels down her throat. The drug simply must work this time. There is only one who is immune to it’s effects, and that’s me. If I’ve discovered another such as myself, could there be others? I had thought I was the first and only of the true elite; those who had surpassed the animalistic desire for sex. Maybe I’ve found my counterpart. Maybe...
I wait for any sign of the usual effects. Her breathing remains normal. Her pupils do not dilate. Her skin does not blush with the excitement of passion that I have seen rock so many others. Passive and silent, she stares at me emptily, and I feel almost like I’m in love. The evidence is compelling, but I must be certain.
“You really are something. No one has withstood that kind of dosage unaffected before.” I say as I gently stroke the side of her face with my fingers.
She says nothing and continues to stare blankly up at me.
“Well. I need to try one last test to be sure that you’re immune. Will you take one last dosage?”
“I suppose so. Though it doesn’t seem as if I’ve got much choice.”
“Don’t worry. If what I suspect is true, I’ll release you very shortly. Now...” I remove the third vial from my shirt pocket and pop the cap off. “I need you to open your mouth for me.” I suppress an unfamiliar shudder as she parts those perfect lips. I carefully pour the entire contents of the tube between those lips; enough to bring at least six people into total lust-filled submission. She frowns at the slightly bitter taste of the concentrated dosage, and that is the only reaction to the drug that I detect.
I quickly begin the work of unraveling her bindings. It seems to take ages but I gradually uncover the naked and unresponsive body of this pale beauty. All the while I apologize to her for the humiliation I have forced her to endure. I am practically hypnotized by her presence as I reveal those perfect breasts. They rise and fall in a calm, uniform rhythm, so pretty and graceful and never desiring of the touch of any man. I continue unwinding the bandages and release her belly from confinement, and then expose the patch of white fur between her thighs. I pause to reflect on the beauty of this sight and the purity of the cleft that lay there before me. I watch the smooth skin of her belly rise and fall with the same rhythm as her breasts and am overcome with remorse for what I have put her through. I finally found a true lady-and one at my own level at that, and this is how I treat her. I begin to softly curse myself as I finish unwrapping her.
I have her sit upright on the edge of the bed when I am done and I gaze into her now sheepish eyes. “Please accept my apology my lady. I would never have been so crude to you had I known of your will and purity. Please forgive me or I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”
“Sure. Whatever. Just don’t make me stay here any longer. I want to go home.”
“Certainly,” I respond. “I only have one request of you. I... well I... never desired to kiss anyone before. I would truly cherish one kiss from your perfect lips before you leave.”
“Yeah? Well since you’re so eloquent, I suppose so.”
My heart leaps at her agreement. We both stand and I close my eyes and lean forward to receive this precious gift from her. I feel the warm softness of her mouth as it covers mine. Then the sweet sensation of her tongue pressing between my lips. She teases and coaxes my own tongue into exploring her mouth, and I feel her hands grasping at the back of my head. The taste of her is exquisite, some indefinable quality that makes me plunge deeper and deeper into her mouth. I allow my arms to encircle her waist as she licks and gently nibbles at my lips. I realize what the taste of her mouth was as I feel the forming of my first erection in twenty years. Somehow the traces of the drug concentrate in her mouth have actually affected me. I never tested the drug on myself, I’d just assumed that my natural superiority...
I can’t seem to keep my train of thought as my hands move as if of their own will. I can feel her nipple rising between my thumb and forefinger. I feel her stomach moving with the rhythm of her breath. I feel the flesh between her legs yield to my probing touch. She breaks our kiss and looks into my eyes.
“Please,” I say. “I want to fuck you. Let me fuck you.”
“Well, I’m ready. But you seem a bit overdressed.”
I hurriedly remove my clothes and carelessly throw them to the floor. I look at Stacie who has moved to stand on the other side of the bed.
“Lie down.” she says. Of course, I comply.
She softly brushes my penis with the tips of her fingers. Teasing my shaft and balls she starts to talk to me with a devilish look on her face.
“So what happened to you? I thought you were above this sort of thing. Hmm. Your little friend seems to be enjoying himself though. I wonder...” She begins kissing my neck and working her hand up and down my erection. “I wonder. Since you seem to like tying people up, maybe deep down you want someone to do it to you. Do you want to be tied up?”
The way I feel, I would have said yes to anything she said. The sensations building up inside of me are truly overpowering. The odd warmth in my stomach, the tingling moving up my spine and spreading out to my limbs, the way my entire existence seems to suddenly depend on Stacie. Is this what the drug does to everyone, or is this what sexual activity is supposed to feel like? My train of thought is lost once again as she teasingly licks the tip of my cock and then stands up beside the bed again. I watch the sway of her naked hips and the slight jiggle of her small tits as she walks around the bed to where I had discarded the bandages on the floor earlier. I can almost feel my dick strain to follow her around the room. I notice that the smile has returned to her eyes.
She picks up one of the long strips of cloth and moves toward the head of the bed. She reaches for my hand and slowly lifts it above my head. Softly, she kisses the palm and then takes each finger into her mouth, teasing each in turn with her tongue. This has got to be the most incredible thing I have ever felt. It’s so erotic and sensual, yet so unexpected. I hadn’t realized that fingertips were an erogenous zone. Stacie firmly ties my wrist to the headboard of the bed, and then picks up a second strip.
I see her beautiful body move to the bed and climb on top of me. Sitting on my chest, she goes to work at tying my other wrist to the headboard. I helplessly stare at those glorious breasts hanging above my head and the seductive thatch of hair just inches away from my mouth. I breathe deep the musky scent of her, and strain toward her with my tongue. But with both arms fastened to the headboard as they are, I cannot hope to reach her. She then climbs off me and binds my legs together in the same, mummy-like way in which I had bound her. She ties the bandage off well below my crotch, leaving my almost painfully hard cock exposed. then she loops another piece of bandaging around my ankles, and tightly ties the other end to the frame of the bed. She climbs back up on the bed and again straddles me. She grasps the headboard with both hands and starts humping my chest. I watch her breasts sway with her movement and can feel the warm flow of her juices begin to fall on my skin. I desperately try to maneuver her downwards to my aching prick, but she remains on my chest as if she were attached there.
“What is it?” she taunts. “Is there something wrong?” She climbs down off of me and the bed, grinning. “You didn’t think I’d actually fuck a bastard like you, did you? Jeez, after what you did to me, you’re lucky I don’t kill you now.” I am unable to speak coherently; such is my confusion and my need. I watch as she starts putting on my clothes.
“I don’t feel like trying to find my own clothes, so I’ll just take yours if you don’t mind. God, you’re pathetic. You’re so high and mighty. Mister “master race”. You elitist motherfucker. You’re weak! You’re hopeless. You’re nothing!”
I gawk in horror as I hear her jingle the keys in the right hand pocket of my jeans. She grins one last time before leaving. “Any bets on how long you can go without water?” she says, and then closes and locks the door behind her. I hump the empty air over the bed in vain as I listen to her footsteps moving away. . .
I got no idea how fucking long I been lying here. I dunno how much longer I’m gonna last. I do know that I been bleedin’ from my wrists for quite some time, and I’m pretty sure I heard a scream come from one a’ the other rooms. Even through the pain and fear, this damned feeling won’t go away. The erection won’t go away either, an’ if my balls was enny bluer, they’d prob’ly fall off. Judging by the amount of piss and shit I’m sittin’ in I figure it must have been around three days I been here. My throat is so dry, the cracks in it don’t even bleed ennymore.
But I’ll get outta this.
I’m better than them all
Now I just gotta prove it.