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Charlieos FantasyShe stood quietly, bound wrists at the small of her back, waiting. She shivered in the chill room, as her sole garment, a soft black blindfold, provided little warmth. She focused on relaxing, allowing the murmurs from the other room to flow through her, rather than trying to force them to become words. She flexed her toes in the thick carpet beneath her feet, the familiar sensation comforting and calming her.
The tide of voices stilled. A door opened-she heard the soft click, felt the rush of air. Although she had been expecting it, she jumped when she felt the warmth of his hand on her arm, heard his soft, low voice speaking close to her ear.
She trembled, not with cold, but with fear and anticipation. Trust him, she reminded herself, and felt calmer.
Holding her upper arm gently, he led her through the door. This place was familiar to her; she had navigated it blind many times. She also trusted him to lead her safely, and well.
They moved slowly around the perimeter of the room. Though no one spoke, she was conscious of the presence of others. She could feel their warmth, hear their quiet breathing, smell them. Three, she thought, but couldn't be certain. And one might be a woman. She smiled inwardly, electric thrill of anticipation knifing through her.
They stopped moving, and he turned her so that her back was against him. Showing her off to the assembled players, she thought. He wrapped his arm around her throat, arching her back ever so slightly. Her hands rested against his cock, finding it already hard and eager. She stroked him through his jeans. He ran his free hand up her body, fingertips lightly brushing her thigh, her belly, her ribs .He flattened his hands to first cup, then caress each breast. He pinched one nipple, twisting it sharply. She groaned, arching against him, gripping him tightly, wanting more. He chuckled against her neck.
Letting go, stepping back, he released her bonds, only to refasten them a moment later. She found herself secured at each wrist, arms out-stretched, but not uncomfortably so. Already her body was straining, loss of sight forcing other senses to come alive. She heard every change in breath, every soft rustle of clothing. She felt air moving against her skin, changes in temperature and pressure as people moved around her. She smelled them, the sweet and sharp colognes, the clean smell of soap, the musk of desire. But it was touch that was most alive, most aware.
There was much to be aware of. At first she tried to keep track of each sensation, to categorize it, name it. Fingertips on her arm, gently stroking. Lips on her nipple, suckling. Fingernails on her back, gentle, but making her tingle. Soon there were more, different, increasingly intense, and she could no longer keep track—heat here, cold there, pleasure, pain, one hand or five, tickling or scratching—and it was all of that, everything at once, no part of her left unexplored, hands, mouths, things she couldn't identify .A hot tongue teasing her clit as something sharp pinched her nipple and a slap made her bottom sting and someone sucked gently, erotically, on her neck .
She was moaning, weak, crazed, soaking wet. Please,... she whispered, hoarse already from her uncontrollable cries of pleasure, please ....
His voice, the voice of her Master, her saviour, deep and low, speaking right into her ear. What is it that you want?...
She is beyond thought, reduced to sensation and need. I please Master .... Words fade to moans as she hovers on the brink of orgasm. They know, and hold her there mercilessly.
Tell me,... he insists. What do you want? Do you want a cock in your tight little pussy?...
Oh, God, yes!... she moans, nearly breathless.
What else do you want? Do you want my cock in your pretty little ass?...
Oh!... she shudders, the thought tipping her over the brink, a small orgasm shaking her but leaving her back on the precipice, trembling, dripping.
Movement, hands at her waist, lifting her, hands raising her legs, as she is by now too weak to do this herself. She is first raised, then slowly lowered. She feels the hard smoothness, the welcome heat and sharp electric pulses as a man strokes her clit with the tip of his penis. Her fists clench and arms strain. Her legs have been wrapped around him, and now, as the instrument of her release is brought near, her strength returns. She tightens her legs, raises her pelvis. Feeling his cockhead slip into her opening, she presses forward strongly, pulling with her legs at the same time, forcing him inside of her. She groans deliciously, tightening and contracting, milking him. So close, so close.
Hands caress the backs of her thighs, sliding up along her buttocks. She feels something warm and wet pressed against her anal opening. Oh God yes!... she whispers, head falling forward. She raises herself again, this time straining backwards, wanting to feel him slide into her, needing to feel that. Her master's fingers grip her hips. With agonizing slowness, he begins to force his way into her. Her body is tense, trembling, straining towards him, towards both men, struggling to hold on, not fall off of the precipice too soon .
As if on cue, both men begin to move. Press in, pull back, deeper, then back, stroking and pressing every most sensitive nerve ending she possesses, compressing between them the heart, the well, the birthplace of her most intense orgasms.
And it is there. Bones melting, wave after wave of intense pleasure rolling through her, limbs weak, a long, low, hoarse sound that she is not even aware of making forcing itself from her very soul, she is rocking, floating, clenching, melting, tremoring, dying .
The men explode into her, first one, loud, panting and moaning as she has done. Then her Master, quietly but insistently, his cheek pressed against her hair, whispering her name. Tears sting her eyes, the pride of knowing how she has made him feel, of knowing his pleasure matches hers, making her heart sing. The men collapse towards one another, holding her between them, as she has already gone limp herself. She is exhausted, but warm, still tingling, still close to yet another orgasm, and so, so happy .
End of Story