HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX Chapter 7 comes to and end

HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX
Chapter 7 comes to and end

She moved over to give me room and I laid on my back waiting for her to make the next move. She leant up and, for a moment or two she surveyed my body leaving me to fight the urge to cover myself. She seemed amused when my nervous excitement caused my nipples to harden.

Without another word she moved to lie on top of me and gently caressed my arm causing goose bumps to form. I closed my eyes and felt an electric thrill as her heavy breast slipped over mine bringing our nipples together.

I lifted my arms and brought my hands together behind my head in the hope that she would use her hands elsewhere on my body but she carried on gently stroking just inside my elbow. The sensation was almost ticklish and I stretched my arm wide. It was then I heard the click.

What are you doing?

Shushh...stay still

My wrist was secured in a shiny steel cuff and before I could come to terms with it she slid its twin from under the pillow and secured my other arm. A panicked jerk was enough to tell me that I was now firmly secured to the headboard.

Claire, you don't need these, just make love to me please.

She got up from the bed and laughed.

Don't you listen? You're here for my pleasure not me for yours.
I felt deflated and embarrassed that I had misread the situation but I could not rid myself of the conviction that she had, teased me deliberately.

While I was in the States I had some time on my hands and so I did a bit of research on the net. You'd be surprised how many women like you there are out there, submissive getting their kicks from degradation. Well if that's what you want I can certainly accommodate you.

It's not like that!

She ignored me as she reached under the bed.

Look, I've brought you a present

She was holding up a black latex phallus, at least ten inches long, detailed with a retracted foreskin and bulbous head. It came with a set of straps and fear made my heart turn cold.

Claire, I don't want this!

The prospect of being penetrated by such a thing was anything but pleasant but I had badly misconstrued her intentions. Before I could react she pushed the thing into my mouth and by the time I had started to resist she had already slipped the strap behind my head and drawn it tight.

I lay there with the bottom two inches of the shaft filling my mouth with a horribly acrid taste while the remainder of it protruded proudly from my face. I shook my head as I frantically tried to force the thing out of my mouth with my tongue but the strap kept it firmly in place.

She watched my struggles with an amused expression as she took another sip of her drink. After a moment or two she picked up a tube of lubricant, which I had missed, and she squeezed a measure into the palm of her hand. She took hold of the shaft and, while I continued to resist, she used the movement to liberally smear it all over.

Once she was satisfied she went through to the en suite, presumably to wash her hands, leaving me to try and shout after her but all I could mange was a stifled gagging noise.

When she came back into the room my face was red with anger and frustration but she was completely unmoved.

She slinked up onto the bed with feline grace and pinned my shoulders with her knees. I kicked my legs as I desperately tried to unseat her but she simply laughed as she sat tight and waited for me to tire.

In the end it was lack of breath that defeated me. The shaft made it difficult to breathe properly and I could no longer fuel my struggles.

I think I'm going to enjoy this.

She clamped the sides of my face with her knees and lifted herself over the shaft. I watched with a mixture of fear and warped fascination as she teased herself over the tip and slowly but surely allowed it to penetrate her. She did it unhurriedly and it took at least a couple of minutes to accommodate the first inch.

Each tiny movement was transmitted as an uncomfortable pressure on my mouth and I was confronted with an unwanted close-up of her labia now stretched so tight around the shaft that her clitoris was clearly in view.

Are you ready?

I wanted to shake my head and say no but to do so would only have been painful and all I could do was watch as she slowly relaxed and allowed herself to sink down the length of the shaft.

My heart rate leapt as I feared I would be choked but the strap prevented the shaft from being driven right to the back of my throat; nevertheless, the pressure on the front of my face and particularly my mouth, was not welcome.

Having sunk all the way day Claire groaned with pleasure but then she began to jostle herself slightly to see just how much abuse I could take without inflicting any lasting damage.

Once she had my measure she closed her eyes and began a slow rise and fall. Each down stroke brought with it a dull pain and, in wishing it was over, I found myself counting along with her steady rhythm. By the time I reached fifty she showed no signs of slowing but now, each time she came down, her taut labia created a creamy bow wave which was slowly but surely filling my nostrils.

I breathed as best I could through my mouth but, every now and again, I inadvertently took a bubbling breath through my nose flooding my senses with her rich scent. In my mind it became associated with a slow asphyxiation but there was no escaping it.

This is just so nice you'd better get used to it.

Her body was glistening with perspiration and, between her breasts, the tiny beads came together to form a rivulet that made its way slowly down over the plane of her stomach, skirting her navel, until it ran into the wet mess of her pubic hair.

Slowly but surely she cranked up the tempo but, in doing so, she was becoming more heedless of the pain she was inflicting. As she got nearer to her climax she opened her knees a little so that she could drive the shaft deeper and, taking advantage of the relaxation of pressure, I tried to shake my head but she had other ideas.

She took hold of my head in both hands and, twining her fingers in my hair, she held me fast as she started the final countdown.

She was literally bouncing on my face until, finally, she drove the shaft as deep as she could and held it there. I could no longer breathe and I thought that my teeth would be broken as I endured every shuddering vibration transmitted by the repulsive intruder.

When she got off of me I tried to convey my fury but she did not even look back. She left me alone, still fastened to the bed, and when she returned quarter of an hour later she still looked flush with excitement.

To the extent that the shaft would allow I shouted myself hoarse but she remained unmoved.

Patience, patience, I know you want to play but you'll tire me out.

This willful misinterpretation set me off again but my shouts of anger turned to screams of anguish as she climbed onto the bed again and, this time, facing towards my feet, she impaled herself once more

Hours later, I sat at home and cried. On leaving her flat I wanted to hit out at her but, in every sense, I was cowed. I left meekly, without a word.

I heard nothing from her for some days and vowed that I would have nothing more to do with her. Once again my work gave me strength and an upcoming exhibition at the

New London gallery ensured that I was kept particularly busy.

As I met and greeted people on the day I was reassured that, at least professionally, my star was indeed moving into the ascendancy and I felt better than I had for some time.

As the guests circulated I even heard the Turner prize being mention.

I went into the washroom and, staring at myself in the mirror, I allowed myself a silent cheer.

Congratulations.

I shifted my eyes from my own reflection to that of Claire who had just exited one of the cubicles. Overcoming my initial shock I turned to face her. It was my own fault. My agent had put together the guest list and had, as usual, invited my close friends as well as the great and good of the art world. I had not even bothered to check the names.


By nutbuster