my body from the fruit and drink, I drifted into a light doze. I awoke I don’t know how much later, riding the crest of climax just as George eased his pulsing length past my lips. His knees were at my shoulders and his face buried in the damp curls between my thighs. He lapped and sucked at me, his hands clamped to my buttocks, lifting my lower body tighter to his mouth.
I shattered moments before he spewed into my mouth, filling me with his taste.
Carefully bringing me to climax before easing away and allowing me to rest, George coaxed my body into responding repeatedly throughout the night. Occasionally, he would whisper to me things he wanted me to do, positions he wanted to experiment with. I made little protest to some of the things he suggested, merely answering with a yes or a no if I found his words or the ideas arousing or not.
Through the gauzy curtains covering the French doors, I watched the moon rise and make its way across the sky. Tucked on my bed, I saw little beyond the closed confines of my Meeting a Neighbor’s Needs
43
bedroom. Time was immaterial. Although he assured me only a few hours had passed, George pulled the heavier drapes over the French doors, adding to my disorientation.
After a bath and a thorough cleansing at his hands, George led me back to my bed and tied me down again with the cuffs, their length of rope loosened enough that I would be able to sleep in some comfort. As I lay propped up on several pillows, he slowly fed me a generous portion of fruit and soup, along with several huge glasses of juice, its flavor similar to the drugged wine I’d consumed earlier.
I fell into an exhausted sleep, but was awake long before dawn, my body on the razor edge of frustration, every nerve tingling with arousal, with no relief in sight. From my living room, I could hear voices, deep, masculine voices, and more than two. I tried to remain quiet, hoping what I was imagining hadn’t come to pass.
Inviting Mike to our bed had been a surprise, just as his sending Gideon to me in the bookstore had been. And though it unnerved me to have allowed a stranger access to my body, George’s presence alleviated that distress. Odd as it might sound, in my mind he was my protector. He had introduced my body to a plethora of sensations, but I trusted him to keep me from harm. Though I ached as I’d never done before, the wet sheath of my vagina longed to be filled, and even the sore muscles of my ass pulsed with arousal. My breasts swelled, my nipples were taut and firm, desperate for attention, to be sucked, pinched, anything to relieve the need.
A part of me hoped George hadn’t brought more men into my home, while another part wondered at the tasks I would have to fulfill to please George. Somehow, I knew these last few hours and the ones to come were a test. Not only of my body’s ability to give and receive pleasure, but also of the depths of my trust in George. It clicked then that in these last months together he’d slowly slipped an invisible collar of ownership on me. And it was here and now that I would have to decide if I would let it remain or slide it off.
44 Qwillia Rain
As I lay in the dark, listening to the men in my living room, I was undecided. Since the first night George had slipped into my bed, I’d approached our encounters as if they were individual episodes of sexual fulfillment. Scratching an itch, so to speak, I guess.
Now, with this hurdle before me, I took stock of our relationship. From the first day he’d touched me, something in him drew me. Like iron filings to a magnet, I couldn’t escape thoughts or fantasies about him. But was my need for him enough to withstand the plans I suspected he had for me? Enough to fulfill the one fantasy he’d shared with me?
My ruminations were interrupted when my attempts to remain silent failed. Either that or George was sensitive to my every move, because soon after I realized what I was hearing from the living room, George
I shattered moments before he spewed into my mouth, filling me with his taste.
Carefully bringing me to climax before easing away and allowing me to rest, George coaxed my body into responding repeatedly throughout the night. Occasionally, he would whisper to me things he wanted me to do, positions he wanted to experiment with. I made little protest to some of the things he suggested, merely answering with a yes or a no if I found his words or the ideas arousing or not.
Through the gauzy curtains covering the French doors, I watched the moon rise and make its way across the sky. Tucked on my bed, I saw little beyond the closed confines of my Meeting a Neighbor’s Needs
43
bedroom. Time was immaterial. Although he assured me only a few hours had passed, George pulled the heavier drapes over the French doors, adding to my disorientation.
After a bath and a thorough cleansing at his hands, George led me back to my bed and tied me down again with the cuffs, their length of rope loosened enough that I would be able to sleep in some comfort. As I lay propped up on several pillows, he slowly fed me a generous portion of fruit and soup, along with several huge glasses of juice, its flavor similar to the drugged wine I’d consumed earlier.
I fell into an exhausted sleep, but was awake long before dawn, my body on the razor edge of frustration, every nerve tingling with arousal, with no relief in sight. From my living room, I could hear voices, deep, masculine voices, and more than two. I tried to remain quiet, hoping what I was imagining hadn’t come to pass.
Inviting Mike to our bed had been a surprise, just as his sending Gideon to me in the bookstore had been. And though it unnerved me to have allowed a stranger access to my body, George’s presence alleviated that distress. Odd as it might sound, in my mind he was my protector. He had introduced my body to a plethora of sensations, but I trusted him to keep me from harm. Though I ached as I’d never done before, the wet sheath of my vagina longed to be filled, and even the sore muscles of my ass pulsed with arousal. My breasts swelled, my nipples were taut and firm, desperate for attention, to be sucked, pinched, anything to relieve the need.
A part of me hoped George hadn’t brought more men into my home, while another part wondered at the tasks I would have to fulfill to please George. Somehow, I knew these last few hours and the ones to come were a test. Not only of my body’s ability to give and receive pleasure, but also of the depths of my trust in George. It clicked then that in these last months together he’d slowly slipped an invisible collar of ownership on me. And it was here and now that I would have to decide if I would let it remain or slide it off.
44 Qwillia Rain
As I lay in the dark, listening to the men in my living room, I was undecided. Since the first night George had slipped into my bed, I’d approached our encounters as if they were individual episodes of sexual fulfillment. Scratching an itch, so to speak, I guess.
Now, with this hurdle before me, I took stock of our relationship. From the first day he’d touched me, something in him drew me. Like iron filings to a magnet, I couldn’t escape thoughts or fantasies about him. But was my need for him enough to withstand the plans I suspected he had for me? Enough to fulfill the one fantasy he’d shared with me?
My ruminations were interrupted when my attempts to remain silent failed. Either that or George was sensitive to my every move, because soon after I realized what I was hearing from the living room, George
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