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Longshot's Fantasy scene 2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: Fantasy Scene II
[A little more obviously B&D. Actually set in a townhome I looked at a while
back, and have vowed to move to when my current lease expires. It offers,
among other things, a basement of about 450 sq feet or so, a basement I
accidentally referred to as "dungeon" over the phone, in one hell of a
Freudian slip]
This time, we are definitely at my place, but some place that allows me to
have a mini dungeon of my own, without worry of disturbing the neighbors.
I will begin this scene with you already nude. Your hands are bound behind
your back, and there is a spreader bar at your knees. You are kneeling on
the floor (an area of the basement that I have put some carpeting on.
Wouldn't want you to be distracted from what is happening by the cold of
concrete against your skin) and you are blindfolded.
It's cold here in Denver the time of year this is happening, and I have
arranged your position in the basement dungeon so that you are cold. Not
cold enough to endanger your health, but cold enough to cause gooseflesh.
That is what I want. I circle you for a while, letting your skin react to
the chill. I touch you lightly, randomly. Between the carpet, my socks, and
my patience, you cannot tell exactly where I am until I touch you, and even
then you can only guess. One by one, I turn on a series of space-heaters, to
warm you up. For the next phase, I want warm skin to play with.
As the air around us warms up, I begin to run my fingertips all along your
body, as lightly as possible. You tense up almost immediately; you know I
am able to touch you so lightly that all your brain registers is the heat
coming from my skin. I go in circles, I go in broad swatches across your back
and thighs. The only thing I do not do is touch your nipples, or touch your
lower lips. I come close, exquisitely close, but not quite. I touch you from
different angles, I touch you in places that you would not think of as erotic,
but with the air warming around you, and my feather-light touch playing a
symphony on your nerve-endings, even the most un-sexy parts of you seem to
be alive with sensation. You beg me to stop. You beg me never to stop.
Now there is a new sound for you to think about. Over the humming of the
heaters, over the ticking of the small clock I keep down here, over the
typical neighborhood sounds that are faintly discernible beyond these walls,
you hear clothing rub against skin, as I decide the area is now warm enough
and join you in nudity. Now when I approach you, you are certain you can feel
the heat from my skin, so certain that it must be real, you cannot possibly
be imagining this, can you? You are so familiar with my body, its exact
dimensions, that you can almost feel as if you know where my cock is, imagine
it there with its sac hanging loosely below it. Your control slips for a moment
as you turn towards it.
NO! I grab you, one hand under your chin, the other entwined in your hair.
You *know* you are not to move, except as I guide you or command you directly.
You *know* that, so I must assume that you *want* me to punish you for your
lapse, don't you? I bring my face close to yours, only a fraction of an inch
away, and I whisper, "For this, and every subsequent infraction, I will
increase your torture and further delay your orgasm. This gaffe has promised
you an added ten minutes of servicing me, and an added fifteen minutes to the
time I had chosen for your own release." I extend my tongue and trace your
lips, moving the hand from beneath your chin, tracing a line between your
breasts until I take one nipple between my fingers and squeeze it. You know
better than to move or cry out. At least, you know now.
Releasing your head, I slowly lean you backwards until your body is about
forty-five degrees from the floor. I place a padded support under your head,
so that the only pressure you feel is the need to use your back and upper leg
muscles to keep your upper body weight from being applied to your neck. From
this position, your entire body is open to me. You know what I want by putting
you like this. You know that it is time for you to bring me pleasure, but you
know better than to move without my direction.
"Turn your face towards me, my dear. Wet your lips, then part them slightly."
Without hesitation, all of this is done, and I slide myself between those
soft lips of yours. This is not the most comfortable position for you to
service me from, but it is what I have chosen for now, and it is not your
place to question. I feel you sigh softly, through your nose, the motion of
the air tickling my groin, as I begin to lightly stroke your nipples. You
have such a perfect, soft touch. Your tongue and lips operate as if you were
born to service me. I let my hand wander further down. You must concentrate
now. You know from previous experience that I am trying to break your
concentration. Trying to get you to miss a stroke, to mis-time part of your
technique, causing you to catch or twitch wrong. To do so would incur further
punishment. Try as I may, I cannot break your concentration. You have improved
so much since our first scene together. I smile to myself as I finger you
faster and faster. Your ministrations on me increase in pace in exact time
to my stimulation of you. I withdraw, wanting to save my orgasm for later.
You tense, knowing that I will stop long before you gain any release. Of course
I do. We're only beginning.
I can sense your level of excitement now. Your whole being exudes it. It feels
almost vampiric in nature, the way these feelings energize me. It's in your
breathing, the way you are almost panting shallowly. It in your wetness, which
I can still feel in the palm of my hand, which I can smell in the air like
an exotic incense. I raise you back upright momentarily, then bend you forward,
bending at the waist, as I bring the support in front of you and rest your
head on it. Your lovely ass is presented to me, and I pause to admire the
smooth tautness of your back in this position. This is a much more comfortable
position for you to be in. I can play with you like this for hours without
fear of a muscle cramp. And hours it may well be, depending on how many more
penalties you incur.
You hear me pick something up, then a click and a low humming. I begin to rub
the vibrator against your lips and around to your clit. As I am doing this
with one hand, I an caressing your lovely smooth cheeks. I increase the
pressure of the vibrator against your clit and I begin to spank you. Sound
swats, solid and square on your cheeks. "You are a very bad girl. Not only
are you bad enough to require bringing here to my dungeon, but even once here,
you cannot obey my commands to the letter." Again and again my hand falls. You
have lost count, and pray to yourself that I do not ask you to tell me how
many swats you have gotten. You don't know yourself. I feel you begin to
tremble, and your leg muscles begin to tense, so I stop both stimuli at once,
leaving you on the edge. I click off the vibrator. There is a stretch of
silence. You hear me set it down, then my lips are where my hands were just
moments ago, warm soft kisses soothing the growing redness of the spanking.
You press the side of your face deeper into the cushion of your support to
stifle a moan. I lower my face slightly to blow warm air across the hairs
surrounding your clit. You're so close to the edge, even this minimal stimulus
is torturous. You're primed now. Even a finger on your shoulder could set you
off like a rocket. Now you're ready.
You feel me position my self behind you, on my knees in the space between
your legs created by the bar. I place one hand on your ass to brace myself,
and I gently probe at your lips with the head of my cock. A teasing probe,
that barely penetrates and only heightens your already-excited state. Then I
stop and you feel me taking moisture from your very hot pussy and using it
to lubricate your tight little rosebud. Your breath catches slightly-- this
is fairly new ground for us, something we've barely explored, but if it gets
too uncomfortable, there is always the safeword. Several minutes I spend
lubricating you and working my fingers in to loosen the muscles. Then you feel
the head against that opening, again just teasing the nerves, just getting the
first half-inch or so inside, then I withdraw again. A pause, and I am back at
you lips. I still do not go more than a half an inch. Just enough to make you
want to push back at me, make you need to push back, to engulf my cock as far
as you can get it, to bring you that release your body is screaming for. But
as quickly as it starts, the stimulation is ended and I withdraw. I move again
to your other hole, and we go through it again. You are so hungry for release,
you consider forcing yourself back and taking me there, up to the hilt, to
bring that last bit of sensation needed to go over the edge. But it is not to
be so. I withdraw and switch again. This goes on for hours, it seems, though
in the back of your head you know that twenty minutes is much more likely.
Each time I go through this, the time delay between holes get shorter and
shorter. You begin to remember that there are hazards here, the danger of
carrying infection from the sphincter to your pussy, but just as you feel like
maybe now is a good time for the safeword, something else dawns on you: no one
could move their cock between those two opening as fast as I seem to be. A
dildo?!? And one just close enough to the size and shape of my own cock as to
have fooled you. But then, your ass is not as familiar with my cock as your
pussy is, is it? No, it isn't. And you never heard me pick up this dildo,
home-improved to strap on just above my cock. All this revelation hits you
at roughly the same time I push forward and bury myself to the hilt in both
openings at once. The overload is too much for you. I have broken your
composure, and your orgasm goes over you in great crashing waves. I hear
myself gasp as you grip me with warm velvet that seems intent on bringing me
off, as well. You open you mouth and scream your way through another orgasm,
then yet another. You continue to spasm and twitch, and I smile despite myself.
You never come fewer than four or five times in a row. It's what makes you my
absolute favorite bottom. Finally, after what seems like another hour, your
spasms start to slow down, and I withdraw from both openings, and release the
straps on the dildo, letting it drop to the floor. I move around to your head
and softly stroke your cheek. I kiss you deeply, and passionately. I draw back
and remove your blindfold. You look up at me and smile weakly. I speak first.
"Naughty, naughty girl. I did not give you permission to come once, let alone
so many times. I can see that we've only just begun to discipline you."
Somehow, you cannot manage to stop smiling.
Longshot
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