Roué

It begins with four lengths of black silk, each of them two feet long and two inches wide. I secure them about her wrists and her ankles, and then use the free ends to bind her to the four corners of the bedstead. Her outer clothes and her lingerie already lie scattered about the bedroom floor. Her skin is milky in the light of the candles I lit before I started to unzip her dress.

Her jade gaze follows me intently as I move around the bed securing her. Her mouth glistens in the half-light, damp with expectation. My own lips press together in a contented smile. That’s the frame of mind I wanted to provoke in her. Expectant. Slowly, I approach her and carefully cover her eyes with the blindfold I retrieve from my pocket.

“Can you see?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“That’s good.”

Now that I’ve stripped her of her clothes, her freedom, and her sight, I can gather the tools I require. My preparations complete, I sit down on the firm mattress next to her, taking in the glory of her nakedness. The room is warm and despite her anticipation, her nipples are still soft, inert. I reach out to cup her left breast, and quickly feel its peak responding to the warmth of my touch, swelling, rising against my palm. I spread my fingers as wide as I can, drawing the tips up the soft hill of her bosom until they capture her nipple. She gasps as I grasp it gently, pull delicately upon it to tease it higher.

The oil comes next. I liberally coat my palms, rub them together with vigour to warm the clear liquid. I ease my fingers down the sides of her neck, along her collar bones, over her shoulders. I grasp the muscles in her upper arms, smooth my hands downwards in unhurried strokes that lead my touch onto her forearms and her own hands. In time, my hands flow across her thighs, her calves, her feet, then work their way back towards the soft plain of her belly. The oil leaves her skin gleaming. Her sighs of contentment build as my touch does its work. As I caress her full breasts, my gaze drifts downwards, relishing the subtle changes in her sex; the way her outer labia are swelling and beginning to gape as her arousal builds, the shy wetness that I see waiting for me within her.

My mouth waters at the sight.

I cup her mound with the whole of one hand. The chestnut hair that adorns it is rich and luxuriant, and I lightly comb it with my fingers. I decide that I want it gone. I trim her first with a set of cordless hair clippers, then fetch my razor, bristle brush, shaving soap and a bowl of hot water. I lather her sex and apply the razor in careful swoops. Soon, her mound is naked but for a finger width of tight curls across the centre of her mound, and her labia are left bare and soft.

Wonderful.

Perfect.

I slip down the bed, tease her inner thighs with my finger tips, press my lips to her mound. I smell fresh soap, and the scent of feminine arousal. I slip lower, kissing my way over her lips. Somehow, I resist the compulsion to run my tongue down through her cleft. The scent of her arousal is much stronger now, and it seeps into my senses, threatening to overwhelm them. I can’t prevent myself from thinking about how vulnerable she is, how easy it would be to thrust my cock inside her right now, to take my pleasure with her, long and slow, hard and fast.

But that isn’t what this is about.

So instead I hold my focus and tease her sex with my kisses until her hips are rolling languidly against the bed, until her murmurs of pleasure hold an edge of frustration. That’s when my tongue darts out, the very tip tracking up through her moistening cleft, flickering over her exposed clitoris. She gasps, a sound of strident delight expelled from between her parted lips, and for an instant, her entire body tautens, snapping tight all four of her bonds. The bed creaks with the strain.

“Oh yes,” she whispers.

I slip my tongue inside her cunt, fucking her slowly, drinking down her juices. She shudders, urging her sex hard against my mouth. Then I begin to play her clitoris with the flat of my tongue, circumscribe it with the tip, and as I do, I ease two fingers inside her, fucking her, stroking her G-spot as my tongue propels her to her first climax.

I leave her gasping and shaking as I gather the next selection of tools. As the tremors of her orgasm fade, I apply my tongue to her sex once more. When her lust is simmering once again, I substitute the finger-width vibrator for my tongue, tracing the circumference of her sex with its thrumming tip, ease it inside her for a few delicious seconds, then place it squarely against her clit while my tongue laps at the soft entrance to her cunt. When she starts to shudder, I slip my fingers back inside her, arching them to caress the upper wall of rippled velvet.

This time, she yells out when she comes.

“Oh, yes! Yes!”

I don’t allow her the luxury of a full recovery. While she is still rolling in orgasmic after-effects, stretching her bonds, tightening the knots at either end, I get up, slip a pillow beneath her compliant buttocks, raising her hips. Then I release the bonds on her ankles and resume my place between her thighs. Again, I press the vibrator to her clitoris as I lap at her sex. Her labia are richly dark, glistening with arousal, and I relish the piquant taste of her lust. Now I trail my tongue down further, until its tip finds the tightly crinkled opening nestling between her buttocks. Her gasp of pleasure is ragged, drawn-out, as though the thrill of my forbidden gesture has stirred her senses even more.

Now, as the smooth phallus vibrates against her clitoris, I circle her rosebud with my tongue, pausing to press it a few lascivious millimetres inside her. With her senses entirely focused upon the pleasure radiating outward from her loins, I reach out for my next surprise. I purchased the toy a month ago, waiting for the perfect time to reveal its existence to her. It’s double-ended, smoothly bulbous at one end, a series of four graduated jelly beads at the other. I smother the beaded end with the viscous lubricant I squeeze from a waiting tube. I transfer some of the lubricant onto her anus with my fingertip, and begin to ease it inside her. She strains against the digit, trying to resist, to impede its passage. Then she seems to surrender to the sensations, and my finger slips readily inside her.

“Oh my fuck,” she cries.

I slowly, gently fuck her ass with my finger as I allow the vibrator to stray from her clit, drawing its tip slowly around her sex. When her frustration becomes palpable, I return the vibrator to the nub of her pleasure.

“That’s it! Just there! Just there!”

I withdraw my finger, and pick up the new toy. I press the first of the jelly beads to her ass. She flinches for an instant, then presses back to meet the pressure. The first bead breaks through the tight ring of muscle, and she cries out. I recall the first time I eased a set of corded beads inside her as I tongued her clitoris, the way she resisted then suddenly succumbed, seduced by the myriad innovative sensations. This new toy is different, keeping her anus distended while it remains inside her. I ease the remaining three beads inside her, pausing a few seconds after each, allowing her body to acknowledge their presence, to adjust to the pleasure. I can’t remember the last time I heard her gasps of delight so pronounced. It’s as though I’ve discovered some new place, a pristine lust that’s been waiting patiently inside her. It excites me deliciously, and my cock throbs with anticipation.

I wait for her orgasm to begin to erupt, and then I ease the beads from her ass in quick succession, heightening the peaks, drawing out and intensifying her pleasure. While she’s still reeling from the latest assault upon her senses, I’m lubricating the smooth bulbous end of the tool. Its girth is greater than the beaded end’s; not by much, maybe half as thick again. This isn’t about pain, about pushing her to excess. It’s about preparation. When she feels the tip kiss her rosebud, she probably imagines that it’s going to be the beads again. And then it enters her, opening her wider than before, and her mouth forms a quivering ring of shock and pleasure threaded together. I know that if I could see her eyes right now, they would be wide open, staring into me, through me.

The slow thrusts of the toy within her ass and the vibrator pressed against her clitoris are sufficient to propel her quickly into a fourth orgasm, then a fifth, then a sixth. Now her body shines with both oil and perspiration. Each cry of completion is more ragged than the last. I sense that she’s finally ready for me. She’s utterly oblivious to the fact that my ministrations have halted, that I’m quickly stripping myself at the foot of the bed. She’s lost to the siren call of her jangling nerve endings.

My cock stands up keenly, absolutely no requirement for a stiffening hand, for a coaxing mouth. I lubricate my cock as I look down at her, wanting her as much as I ever have, perhaps even more. Once my cock is slick, I grip her ankles, lift her legs so that her ass tilts invitingly towards me, and pull her feet together so that I can hold them in place with a single hand. I smear some more of the lubricant around her anus, then kneel on the bed between her thighs. I place the tip of my cock to her rosebud. The girth is about half as thick again as the toy’s bulbous end.

Such smooth progression.

I begin to ease myself inside her.

“Oh, that’s you this time, isn’t it?” she gasps.

“Yes.”

The corniced edge of my glans slips inside the snug ring of muscle. She’s still so tight, even though I’ve been playing her for an age. I press forward slowly, steadily, feeding myself to her fire, to her gasps of pain and pleasure, until my full length is embedded within her darkest portal.

“Oh fuck!” she cries. “Oh fuck!”

My flesh bakes inside hers, and I know that I won’t last, not when she’s so tight, so willing. Not when she looks like this; so aroused, so wanton. So helpless. Her clitoris is engorged with lust, and I stroke the pad of my thumb across the succulent nub.

“The vibrator,” she gasps. “Use the vibrator. Please.” Six orgasms, and her last word is still laden with need.

I reach for the phallus, turn it on, apply its curved apex to her clit.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

When she climaxes, her ass pulses deliciously, quivering around my shaft in a ragged staccato, obliterating the last of my restraint, dragging me into the centre of her pleasure. I come in ragged, molten bursts, turning myself inside out, and my cry of ecstasy collides and melds with hers.

We collapse together across the bed, my cock still embedded in her flesh. I release the bonds from her wrists, then ease the blindfold from her face. The green eyes are liquid now, the focus and intensity washed away by bliss. I gently kiss her forehead, both cheeks and then her lips, before I rest my head against the warmth of her heaving breasts.

Minutes pass in silence, and then she breaks the hush.

“I like your games.”

“I’m glad that you like them.”

She hesitates. “Do you know any more that we can play?”

I lift my head, look directly into her inquisitive gaze and then smile.

“I know lots of games, darling. Lots.”