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VI
I awoke the next morning to the sun streaming through the windows of my cloistered room. The sun warmed my naked skin, and for a moment I forgot about the events of the previous two days. I stretched luxuriously on the bed and rose to get up when I realized my left hand was cuffed to the bedstead. Someone must have entered my room while I was sleeping. I scolded myself for being the eternal optimist – at every juncture since that moment under the table with Ken, I had tried to laugh off my condition and tell myself it was a temporary game. Now I realized I had given up all privacy and, indeed, all control over my body. I struggled for a moment against my handcuff, but in vain. Again, my breath came in short gasps as I quietly sobbed. Looking back, the scene was ridiculous: a common whore, nude, cuffed to her bed awaiting her next assault, crying as though she were surprised.
With that thought in my mind, I heard a key in the lock. Using my right hand, I tried to pull the covers over myself. That drew a contemptuous laugh from the man who now stood in my doorway. I peered up at him from my lowly position. God, he’s attractive, I thought, almost in spite of myself. The man was younger than me, perhaps 26. He was tall, and wore a leather jacket and leather riding boots – but no pants at all. I was attracted to his face, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his exposed sex, which was at least six inches long in its flaccid state. I knew it wouldn’t stay flaccid long.
Smiling but without saying a word, the man took two steps into the room and stood directly over me. He didn’t need to give me an order; I knew my role already. I sat up on my bed, my naked breasts exposed to his view, and took his member in my free right hand. He took my head in his hands and guided my lips toward his sex, which rapidly filled with blood. As I’ve said, I love the feeling of a man’s sex in my mouth. This particular man’s organ was remarkable. The head was huge and dark purple, engorged with blood. The veins on his shaft stood out in prominent relief against the skin, throbbing visibly. Looking back, I think of this as the first moment of my real descent from normal woman to whoredom: I was completely overcome with desire for this man’s sex, with no regard to my husband or my social status or even my rank degradation. I didn’t look up at the man’s face, attractive though it was, because my only thought was for his manhood. I wrapped my hand around the thick base of his member, not noticing the irony of my diamond engagement ring pressed into a strange man’s dark pubic hair. I ran my tongue around the head of his massive organ before opening my lips in an exaggerated “O” to take it into my mouth. Once I did that, I ceased for just a moment to be a human being at all; I was nothing more than an animal, overcome with lust, gobbling hungrily the sex that had been presented to me. I could faintly hear the man (I say “man” even though he was obviously years younger than me) laughing at my sluttish enthusiasm, but I didn’t care. Whether it was his pheromones, or the physical beauty of his erect member, or the combined effect of two days of utter sexual libertinism, all I could think about was milking the sperm out of his sex with my mouth. I wanted nothing more than to taste this stranger and feel his throbbing member in my mouth.
I was therefore surprised and disappointed when he abruptly eased his hips away from my face, obviously easing me. I leaned forward trying to reclaim my prize, but he held me at arm’s length with his hand to my forehead, denying me what I wanted. But by that point, I was so aroused that I couldn’t stop my sexual crescendo with or without his organ between my lips. My left hand moved to caress my nipples which, already erect, sent an electric charge through my body which made me shudder. I kicked off the covers and spread my legs, moving my right hand to my own sex and spreading my labia to reveal my engorged clitoris for this stranger. I was totally exposed: my legs spread wide to reveal my glistening sex, my impending orgasm rippling across my taut belly, my tremulous breasts rising and falling with my rapid breaths, while my aroused nipples stood erect beneath my caresses. He stood before me, stroking his member inches from my face in a smooth rhythm while I unabashedly masturbated myself to orgasm. We came within moments of each other. Sweet-salty sticky sperm erupted from his enormous organ in ribbons, landing (despite my best efforts to catch it in my open mouth) on my face, neck, and breasts. The smell of his fluid only drove me wilder. He chuckled after he finished, presumably amused at the sight of a woman in wild, animalistic rapture covered in hot, sticky semen. I barely noticed as he walked out the door, locking it behind him, because I was still in the late stages of rapture. I fell back on the bed, my hands moved over my body while I scissored my legs in a last effort to achieve one more orgasm, rubbing his precious fluid into the skin of my breasts and belly, luxuriating in my pure animal sexuality. Then I collapsed back on the bed and fell back to sleep.
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