[IMG]http://i60.tinypic.com/p3qtw.jpg[/IMG]

part 2, chapter 4

http://jmh.isa-geek.com/tesstort/

For anyone following the story:

[url]http://jmh.isa-geek.com/tesstort/[/url]

Some of you may recall the story I posted some weeks back. Some of my fans have begged me for more. I have written a new chapter. While I've posted the new chapter below, you can also read it and the whole story on my site linked below.

[url]http://jmh.isa-geek.com/tesstort/[/url]

Part 2
Chapter 1

How many nights have you laid awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the blades of your ceiling fan go round and round, your mind unable to stop racing - to quiet down. How many days have you stumbled through life, unable to focus and concentrate on anything but the experience.

Who was that man?

No one at the party could really remember him. Your friend could barely place him. Her friend, the doctor, had dropped her and she couldn't get hold of him. It seems almost like the weekend never happened.

Except, you have the mask.

You keep it on your dresser. Every day you pick it up and sit on the bed and stare at it - recalling those eyes. His touch. The way he made you feel.

How did you feel? There's no way to explain it. There was pain. Discomfort. Not a little fear.

But there was something else. Excitement. Ecstasy. Contentment.

You felt protected, but threatened. There was something about him, like a tamed animal. He never harmed you, but you felt certain he could. In a heartbeat, you knew he could be savage - dangerous. When he'd rescued you from the guy at the party, he didn't do anything to harm the creep. But the other man was sufficiently fearful.

He wasn't physically imposing. He was, average. Taller than you, but not a lot, not chiseled, but in good shape. If you had to describe him to the police, you wouldn't be able to describe anything distinctive. Except his eyes.

The eyes that haunt your dreams. Every time you close your eyes, it seems, you can see them. They burn a hole into you, and start afire inside you that's unquenchable.

The experience has made you curious. You've been reading more, trying to find something about him. He's doing research, he said. Is there research into this that you can find? Maybe you can figure out who he is. At least, that is your hope. Your desperate hope.

You spend evenings online, searching message boards and websites. But you find little. Hints, at best. Something out of New York, or Boston. A club in Montreal. A place in Berlin.

Then you find her post. She doesn't identify herself, but her experience is similar. Eerily similar. You want to send her a message, but find her account on the website has been closed. All you know is that it happened in Chicago. She met him at a club.

You knew of clubs like that. Not many, but you knew of one that was local. You made up your mind. You knew it was ridiculous, but you made up your mind to do it anyway: you'd go to that club.

For the next few days at work, you felt like a silly girl. What are the odds that he'd be there. What are the chances you'd ever see him again? But what else could you do? You had to try.

Friday night came around. Your friend picked you up, and you both headed off to the club. It was in a nice part of town, off a main road, but not hard to find - if you knew what to look for.

Your friend parked and you both got out of her car and walked to the door. The building was non-descript. It looked something like an office building, though had few windows. Those it had were blacked out. There was no sound coming from the building. You wondered if it was the right place - until a couple came out. The woman wore tight leather skirt and calf-high leather boots with at least a 6 inch heel. The man wore a suit and looked entirely defeated. There was no doubt who was dominant in that relationship.

Your friend grinned at you and you walked together to the door.

A doorman inside opened it for you. He was a large man. Intimidating, but very polite. He wore a suit and tie. You weren't entirely sure, but you thought you saw a bulge from a gun under his suit.

There was a counter to the left, and a set of closed double-doors straight ahead. The lobby was well-lit. The walls were finished with gray marble, and the floors appeared to be granite. There were two sitting areas with couches and chairs. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a bank lobby. Two men sat talking at one of the sitting areas, apparently waiting for someone.

The girl at the counter smiled and you walked over. She was dressed in a simple black ladies business suit. Her hair done up in a bun, and she wore glasses. She looked like a librarian. She was, however, extremely attractive, with a figure that made you jealous instantly.

"Is this your first time here?" She asked. You and your friend both nod. She hands over a small pamphlet. "These are the rules. Please read them. We have a zero-tolerance policy for violations of the rules. There is no cover tonight for single women," she informed you. "And your first drink will be free. Here's a token for the bar." she said, handing each of you what looked somewhat like a poker chip. "You must check your purses, I'm afraid. There's no personal items allowed inside, particularly not cell phones. You need not worry, your belongings are as safe here as in a bank vault. Anything you might need is available inside. The pamphlets may not leave the club, you will have to return them before you get your belongings back. "

She took your purses and stamped your hands with an invisible ink. Then held your hand under a black light and wrote with more invisible ink the tag number for your purse. She did the same for your friend.

"The ink tends to stay for two or three days. If you happen to leave without your belongings, you can pick them up as long as the ink is readable. After that... you'll have to prove ownership. Do you have any questions? No? Through the door, to the elevator at the end. She reached down and touched a button. You heard the solenoid click on the door and she said "Enjoy."

You walked through the door into a hall. At the end of the hall was the elevator. There were a few doors on either side, but they were closed and looked to be locked. You strode down to the elevator, and pressed the button. It opened and you entered. There were several buttons, but one was clearly labeled "Club Entry" It appeared to be near the top of the building, a dozen floors up. You pressed the button and the doors closed. The car rose up.

As it rose, the lights slowly dimmed. At the top, the lights were no brighter than a couple candles. When the doors opened, you faced another hallway, longer this time. The lights grew dimmer further down the hall. You now heard the music, felt the bass-beat thumping through the walls and floor. Your friend looked at you and smiled as you walk down the hall. There was a set of double-doors at the end, their brass door handles catching what little light there was in the hall. You reached hesitantly for the handle, pulling the door open to a different world...

_____


The club was dimly lit inside. Just inside the entry, you could see the main floor area. Surrounding the main floor were clumps of seating areas. Some were couches and chairs, others booths and bar tables. There were four main seating areas. One was lit in red, another in blue, another in green, and the last in yellow. The center of the floor held another seating area surrounding the main bar. This area was lit in black lights. The eerie glowing shapes of people meandered through.

Between the center bar and the outer seating areas was the dance floor. Bodies gyrated wildly. There were cages with women dancing, mostly naked or nearly so. There were a couple cages with men doing the same. All around was a sea of people clad in a wild array of clothing. Leather was the most common material, and black the most common color. but there was a dark rainbow of other color.

There was a haze of mist from a smoke machine, but not enough to truly obscure things, just adding to the overall mood of the club. the entry way was a level above the main floor, so you could look out over the crowd of people. Though not packed by any means, there were still a lot of people here. Perhaps a couple hundred.

A long, elegant staircase descended in a curve to the main floor. You follow it down and find yourself in the throng of people. Other than the caged dancers, everyone was dressed. The rules had mentioned that nudity of patrons was not allowed in the common area.

You and your friend begin to walk across the room, passing people of all kinds. Tall and short, fat and skinny, male and female... and some that were in-between. Some were dressed casually, men in nice pants and button-down shirts; women in comfortable dresses or skirts. Others were more dressed up, men in suits and ties, women in nicer dresses and skirts. And some were dressed in more exiting ways: leather, chains, lace and satin, collars; both men and women. All types were here.

You and your friend find your way to the blue seating area and sit on a couch. The music is loud on the floor, but the overhang over the seating areas appears to use sound-deadening materials. Conversations can be relatively comfortable, though whispers would be difficult unless done very close.

A waitress in a corset with open breasts comes your way and takes your drink order. You give her the tokens and she slips away. Two couples, apparently together, approach you and sit in chairs adjacent to the couch.

"Let me guess," one of the women says, "this is your first time here?"

"Is it that obvious?" Your friend says, laughing.

"You just look, out of your element," the other woman says.

"Well, neither of us has ever been to a club like this."

"Well, there's always a first time. I'm Cleo. Short for Cleopatra. And this is my Anthony," she says, motioning to her companion. "And these are Livia and Augustus," she said, motioning to the other couple.

"If you are new here, you may not be familiar with the rules," one of the men said. "We do not use proper names here. You should never give out your name. Anonymity is, well, you could say its sacred here. You do not share personal details."

You talked with the couples a bit longer. After a bit, Cleo looked to your friend and said, "since you're not a member, you are not allowed into the pleasure zones unaccompanied. Would you like to join me, my dear?"

"What are the pleasure zones?" your friend asked.

Antony answered: I'm sure you've noticed the doors around the edges of the club. They lead to, well, the play areas. There are many throughout the building. That is where things really happen. You don't have to play: you can simply watch. You should know, however, that in some of the zones, if you choose to play, you cannot refuse anyone. Not all are like that, but there are some. You must be careful what invitations you accept. Cleo will guide you, however. Won't you, dear?"

"Of course I will," she said, rising and offering a hand to your friend. She turned at you and smiled somewhat nervously, then look Cleo's hand and went off across the floor toward one of the doors.

Antony smiled at you, but said nothing and made no move. Livia and Augustus shared a joke. Then Livia stood and offered you her hand.

"Would you like to come with me, my dear? I promise, no one will bite... unless you want them to."

Hesitantly you took her hand and she lead you off toward another door. Your last view before leaving the main club was of the two men laughing with each other. You hoped desperately they weren't laughing at you.

Through the door was a hallway. Other halls branched out. Livia leads you down the hall and turns down another, leading to a room with several beds. About half of them are occupied by couples, and a few with more. Down the center of the room is a roped walkway. Livia stops and watches a couple.

"I've played with them before. She has a very talented tongue. Sadly, he is fairly average in all ways. Still, they can be fun."

You stay and watch a while as she, on her knees, services him expertly. After a few moments, he notices the two of you and motions you over. Livia, however, shakes her head and decides its time to lead you on.

Back in the main hall, you wander down further and she leads you into another room. A queue of men are lined up and you see several booths at the end of the room. It takes you a moment to realize what this is: they're glory holes. The idea both disturbs you and excites you. Some of the men are, simply put, unattractive: greasy and sweaty looking, unshaven, unkempt. The thought of fellating one of them makes your stomach turn. Its quite likely that they don't wash thoroughly. Of course, that explains why they are here: the women in the booths - and perhaps some men - wouldn't know until they were already opening wide.

"I know what you're thinking, dear," Livia says to you. "Some of these men are... well... not what you're looking for. I promise you, however, unless they were brought in by a guest, they are all clean and have been cleared by the management. Membership requires a recent std panel and regular retests. Members are thoroughly vetted through a lengthy interview process, and one of the rules for members is that they may not bring people into the pleasure zones without taking full responsibility. Men who are not members must use protection at all times, even for blowjobs. We take this very seriously. Unprotected sex is only allowed between two vetted members. Members are required to report any infractions, and there are employees roaming regularly."

You move on. Room after room, the varieties of sexual experiences are endless. Fetish rooms abound. But so far, you've seen no hardcore BDSM, just light stuff.

That all changes when you enter another very large room. About a quarter the size of the club, it's a cavernous space. The lighting is dim. Red and black lights abound, along with the dim, candle-power, white lights. The view is surreal. Around the room are raised platforms, and each seemed to have a different scene playing out. There were spankings, paddling, whippings all over. In some cases, the whippings seemed severe. Red welts covered backs, thighs, and asses. One woman's ass looked to be so raw she could start bleeding. She cried in pain, but the man paddling her did not stop.

"I know what you're thinking. Everything here is entirely consensual. Everyone has a safe word. Failure to abide by the rules will lead to instant expulsion. If she was not willing. She is entirely in control and can end the experience at any time she likes with no fear of reprisal. Her name is Katarina. I've seen her take much more abuse than this. She always comes back for more."

"I am going to play a little, would you like to join me?"

You shake your head. You're not ready yet. But you admit, the thought sends a thrill through you. It reminds you of your experience before, but you are not ready to join a stranger at this time.

"That's ok, dear. If you like, feel free to wander through the room. If I'm not here on the platform, I will meet you by the door we came in through."

She turns and unclasps one of the rope barriers, then closes it behind herself as she steps up the few stairs to the platform. She disrobes as she goes, standing naked at the top. You watch as a bare-chested man takes her roughly.

"What is your safe word?" he demands.

You do not hear her answer, but he nods, then turns her around and bends her over a padded bench. Her hands are fastened securely, and she is draped over with her ass sticking up. He selects a what appears to be a man's leather belt. The buckle has been removed, but it is otherwise a functional belt - certainly for what it is about to be used for.

He bends the belt in half and slides the leather over her body, down her back, around her firm ass. He is caressing her tenderly with it, when he quickly flicks it and you hear the slap. You would not have expected it to be such a strong slap from the flick of his wrist. Obviously he's well practiced. Livia makes not a sound.

He caresses again, then flicks again, and this time you hear her gasp. You watch as this continues a few more repetitions and you then notice the moisture dripping down the inside of her thigh. She obviously is enjoying the pain.

You decide to wander. Form platform to platform, there are men torturing women and women torturing men. The women look to be the more brutal. Some of it excites you, but much of it seems contrived. There is no relationship involved. Merely pain for the purpose of pleasure. There are no slaves serving masters, or very few. They are doms and subs for a night, that is all. The thought of that doesn't interest you at all, and the scenes fade in your mind to a contrivance only.

Walking along you find a woman suspended, face-down, over a bed. She is tied with knots that look well-practiced, even artistic. She spins slowly, blindfolded and gagged. A few feet from the bed there is a table. On that table are various implements of pleasure and torture. There is no man in sight, however. You begin to wander around the platform. It is square and you can walk entirely around it, viewing from any angle you choose. It seems so like your experience, though not entirely.

Several people are standing all around the scene, watching, waiting for something. You stop a moment, looking on with the crowd.

A spark of electricity courses through your body as you see a glimpse of a masked person in the crowd. Am I imagining it? You ask yourself. You look around, but don't see anything.

You turn back toward where Livia is now being taken roughly by the man who was whipping her. She is no longer bound, but is still bent over the bench as the man thrusts deep into her.

You turn back around and catch another glimpse. There! On the other side of the platform. It's dark. There are a lot of people, but you could swear you saw a masked man.

You hurry around, moving your head left to right, unable to see him. He's not there.

Another glimpse. this time you are certain. It's the mask. Someone here has one just like it. Is it him?

Your heart races as you search for the man in the mask. You constantly catch glimpses as he disappears into the crowd. Then you hear your name.

Don't turn around

The voice is in your head again. Familiar. Exciting. You feel your body quiver and your crotch is on fire. You obey, however. You couldn't turn around if you had to. You are paralyzed with excitement and fear.

What are you doing here? Don't you know this is not your place.

"I had to come," you say.

Why?

"Because I need more."

Our time was done.

"Why can't it happen again?"

It could be too much for you. It already was, I fear.

"I want it. I want to serve. I will do anything. ANYTHING you ask."

Be careful what you say. If I consent to this, there is no going back.

"Must I throw myself at your feet?"

No.

There is a pause.

Things are not ready. Go home. You will receive a message tomorrow.

"I want this." you say.

There is no response.

You feel the force that paralyzed you release you. You look around but he is not there.

"Did you see the man in the mask?" you ask a patron. he shakes his head. You ask several more and get the same answer.

Could it all have been in your mind?

_____


Livia has come down from the platform and you see her walking toward you.

"My dear, shall we return to the club? I must have something to drink and try to sit," she says, smiling. She takes your hand and leads you out the door and back to the club.

Your friend is there with Cleo. They are kissing, passionately as the men watch. Antony is rubbing his crotch and Augustus is simply watching as you and Livia return.

Your friend pulls away from Cleo for a moment and comes to you. "What did you think?"

You don't tell her what happened, only that it was very intriguing.

"Listen, do you think you could drive yourself home?" She then tells you she's leaving with Cleo and Antony. You are only mildly shocked. Truth be told, you somewhat expected something like this. You agree.

Cleo tells her that she will make arrangements in the lobby to pick up your friend's keys. And they walk out, hand in hand, Antony following soon behind.

After some more conversation, you decide that you've had enough for the night. Livia and Antony offer to take you home with them, but you politely decline. They are very understanding.

Livia gives you a hug and kisses your cheek and Augustus shakes your hand as you walk toward the exit and leave. In the lobby the counter girl retrieves your things, with your friend's keys clipped to your purse with a binder clip.

"I trust you enjoyed yourself. I hope you will join us again and consider becoming a member."

You thank her and mutter something about making a decision, then take your belongings and the keys and leave the building. You walk alone to the car, but feel someone's eyes on you. You look around and see nothing - until you look up.

You see him, at the railing of the top floor. You clearly see the mask and in your head you hear the voice...--Soon.

He walks away as you climb into the car and head home. You walk into your living room, drop your purse on a chair, and head back to the bedroom. After a moment in the bathroom you walk back out and sit on the bed. You look to the mask sitting on the chair where you keep it... but it isn't there.

I tried to stay away for a while. Obviously, it didn't last long. I'm trying to avoid memories of one particular person. I fell for her, got burned, and just wanted to stay away.

Only... I guess I'm somewhat addicted to this site... because I couldn't stay away. So... I'll put up pics again soon, and, I guess I'm back.

I don't have OCD, but I do completely understand what this guy is saying, what he's going through. In my own way, my door is unlocked and lights are on too.

I've been debating writing this. But, I want to get it out there. I'm a very private person, and don't usually share this kind of thing in such a public way. But, I feel I need to. I think this is necessary.

Those of you who've gotten to now me, who are really pretty few, know I suffer from major depression. I know I'm not alone out there. I bet more of us than are willing to admit it do.
For those of you who suffer from it, or are close to someone who suffers from it, know how debilitating it can be.

Why am I so depressed? There's no easy answer to that question. I think the majority of it is biochemical. My brain doesn't make enough serotonin, or norepinephrine, or dopamine, or doesn't process it right... or something. I don't have a past history of having been abused. I was raised in a loving household, by parents that most people would probably consider ideal. Though there were some times harder than others, my parents always kept a roof over our heads, clothes on our bodies, shoes on our feet, and food on the table. I had plenty of friends growing up. In short, my upbringing really gives me no reason to be depressed.

I could blame it on relationship problems. I'm not on this site because I have a happy and fulfilling love life. I know some people on here are happily married and here to share their happiness with others. But I think the majority of us are on here because we're looking for something we don't have. I certainly fall into that category. And while my terrible luck in relationships certainly plays into my depression, feeds it, it is not the chief cause.

When it comes down to it, I'm depressed because... well... I'm depressed.

I first realized this about ten to twelve years ago. It's odd it took so long. I like to think I'm of above average intelligence. I have a degree in psychology. You'd think I'd have figured it out sooner.

I think the reason I never realized it is that I have a number of friends, mostly women, who have been through some very rough things in their past. Emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, , you name it. I have one friend that I'm convinced suffers from a disassociate disorder, and another who was diagnosed with PTSD. I looked back on my relatively idyllic childhood and problems at the time and always told myself: what the hell do I have to be depressed about?
But I finally came to realize that whether or not my problems were all that significant, they were significant to me - they were holding me back and preventing me from moving forward in life. That's when I sought treatment.

Antidepressants are not a cure-all. A prescription is not sufficient, in most cases, to treat the problem. That said, when I got on buproprion, I found the ability to start actually working on myself. The medication was a crutch.... and a crutch is there to help you out while you heal.

After the first time I got help, it took time, but I got through it. I never felt like I was suicidal. I contemplated the meaning of it... what would happen if I did... who it would hurt, what it would mean. I knew even before I got help, that suicide was not a real threat. That said, I don't want to own a gun simply because, if my depression were ever to get out of control, I'd never want to give myself the means to do something that rash.

I've had ups and downs since that time. I went through a pretty down patch 6 years ago when I spent several months unemployed, and then suffering financial struggles from being under-employed and struggling.

But things got better, in time.

A little over a year ago, I got into another relationship. I thought it was the right one. I thought it could be, would be, the last and best relationship in my life - the one to last until death do us part. And then... she left me for another man. The circumstances were complicated... but I don't harbor any ill will toward her, nor any resentment (well, perhaps of him... but that's another thing entirely). She didn't mean to hurt me. She was hurting herself. I wasn't there to provide what she needed, and she turned to another. It happened. And it sent me tumbling.

I held on. I held on tight. Coming on here and flirting with many of you ladies helped keep me sane... but I was hurting.

Then, something entirely unexpected happened. I met someone on here. About a month or so ago I posted a status question asking if anyone had met someone on here and turned it into a real relationship. I was kind-of afraid of that. I mean... this isn't really the venue you'd expect to find true love. But this woman was someone special... something different...

Unfortunately, she is also much younger and far away. I was afraid she was too young for the serious relationship I need. I knew what I was getting into, knew the risks to my heart. But I did it anyway. Because the heart wants what it wants, and, all too often, the mind is helpless to fight it.
For a few weeks, it was beautiful. She's an amazing woman. Sweet, beautiful, talented, and intelligent: all the things I find attractive. But she wasn't ready for what I wanted, and needed, and she broke it off.

And that's when my depression really set in again.

I don't blame her one bit. And I'm ashamed of myself for some of the things I've said to her. I've never meant to be hurtful, but I know that I've said things that hurt her. Probably badly. If she reads this... I hope she accepts my apology. I would never expect her to want to speak to me again. But I feel I owe her this public apology. I'd say it to her by name... but I don't think she'd want that, so I won't.

If you're reading this... in front of everyone here on NN, I apologize profusely. I treated you wrong. I wasn't man enough to see past my own pain to see you hurt too. And I've caused you more pain - pain you never in a million years deserved. You are beautiful and wonderful and deserve better than that. I do love you. And I am truly sorry and deeply ashamed for my behavior. I know that doesn't make it better. But you deserve a real apology.

I've suffered a lot of rejection and a lot of heartache. More than I think I deserve... though sometimes I really do think there must be something fundamentally wrong with me to make me so un-wanted by women. I keep hoping that someone will want what I have to give. I don' t know that it will ever happen. I know I can't set my value based on someone else. I do think I'm a good person and could be a good partner for someone special. I have a lot to give. I just wish I could understand why I can't seem to find someone to accept what I have. And I wish I could set aside my emotions enough to see once again the value in myself.

To wrap this up... this is why I'm seriously considering leaving this site. I don't want to drive her off here when I know she enjoys it, enjoys many of the people on here, and is growing in self-confidence because of her time here. She deserves that far more than I need to be on here.
If anyone else is suffering depression: you're not alone. And you can get help. Things, however dark, can get better. I've done it once before. I need to do it again. I believe I can. I just need to want to enough.

For those of you who do not suffer depression, I'm certain you know someone who does.. whether or not you realize it. You don't have to coddle them, or treat them like a fragile egg. But please do think of them and reach out to them when they need it. Sometimes that kind word of support is like a glass of cold water to someone dying of thirst in the desert.

If you read this, all of it... I thank you. If you're the praying type... I ask you to remember me... remember her, and all the others out here who suffer from depression, from self worth problems, from lack of confidence, lack of personal value, and all the other things that hold so many of us back.
Thank you for listening.

You said goodbye to your friend. According to the terms of the agreement, you would belong to him for the next forty eight hours. It was not yet dawn Saturday morning. You would be home, in your own bed, by this time Monday.

You told her to enjoy Todd.

“She will,” he grinned, and walked her to the car.

This is your last chance. The words appeared inside her head. You stood there.

He stood behind you, his hands on your shoulders. As the car drove off, he turned you and walked you into the house. He walked you to the dining room and sat her down. You waited, and a short time later he reappeared with a large plate of food.

You will need your energy. Eat.

Somehow you knew he was saying these things. But you never heard his voice.

You ate. He urged you to clean the plate, and you did. And he went back and got more for you. By the time you were done, you were uncomfortably full.

He lead you downstairs. In the basement was a long hall with a hardwood floor and paneled walls. There were several doors and he stopped in front of the first, opened it, and let you into a very nice bathroom. There was a large tub, already full of steaming water. Soaps, shampoos, everything you’d need. He ushered you in.

Another word in your head: Bathe. Bathe and prepare.

He left you alone and you did as told. You slowly undressed, placing your clothes on the counter, and slipped into the water. It was hot, but not scalding. It was both uncomfortable and wonderful all at once. You lay back and soaked for a moment, then began to properly wash yourself.

You finish and rise to get out of the tub, reaching for a towel. You dry off and turn to dress but realize your clothes are gone, replaced with a soft robe. This is disconcerting: you didn’t hear or see him enter.

You put on the robe and within a moment he opens the door and ushers you out and down to the next door. Inside is what looks much like an office space. A desk, shelves of books, a laptop computer. In the center of the room, however, are two chairs. One is a very comfortable looking easy chair that appears to recline. The other is a bit less luxurious, but obviously comfortable all the same. You move toward it and he stops you, pointing at the easy chair.

Words appear in your head again: This experience will seem as a dream to you. It is done to protect you from the psychological trauma this might cause. And, it will heighten the experience.

"Are you going to drug me?" you asked

No. I do not believe in drugs.

"Then how?"

Relax. Let me show you.

"I'm nervous."

That's ok. Now, close your eyes and count backwards from ten, slowly.

"Ten."

Relax. Hear my words. My voice does not matter. Only my words.

"Nine."

You are relaxing more. Slipping away deeper... deeper...

"Eight."

You hear nothing, not even my voice.

"Seven."

You see nothing, not even my face.

"Six."

Your body is melting away. Your mind is as light as a feather. You feel it drifting off.

"Five."

Your body and mind are separating. Your mind exists within your body, but is not of your body.

"Four."

In your relaxed state, nothing can harm you. Whatever you feel is not happening to you, but to your body, and your body is separate from your mind.

"Three."

Soon nothing else will exist. You will drift away and remain in a dream world. All of this will be a dream.

"Two."

You are almost there. Almost nowhere. Your mind, your body are separate. And they belong to me.

"One."

You have arrived.



________

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

He has returned. You hear the door open. You feel his eyes upon you. You shudder at the thought of the next torture. But you no longer fear his arrival. You anticipated it. You longed for it. You needed it.

He walks to the bed. His hand reaches out and touches your foot. His fingers slide up your leg. Over your shin. Your knee. Your thigh.

You feel the thrill of excitement coursing through your body. Aching to feel his touch on you. There.

But his hand moves past. Over your hip. Sliding across your stomach to the other side and up your side. His hand brushes the curve of your full breast, and keeps going.

Over your shoulder.

Your neck.

Your cheek.

He brushes the hair back from your temple and you look up at him longingly. Pleadingly.

"Please!" you gasp.

The back of his hand caresses your cheek.

"PLEASE!" you cry out.

He withdraws his hand and proceeds to untie your left hand. Then your right. He removes the bonds entirely.

You look at where the ropes held you. The padding prevented chafing, but there is still an indentation from the ropes. You feel free. And are overwhelmed with gratitude.

He steps back from the bed. You slide over and slip out of the bed. Naked. Standing before him. You feel his eyes on you. He says not a word. You don't even sense the words in your head. You simply know what you must do now.

You drop to your knees in front of him. You are ravenous for him. You must have him.

You reach up and unzip his pants. You reach in and pull him out. And without delay you take him into your mouth.

His hand rests on your head, approvingly. He strokes your hair as you give him your gift of service. You feel him grow and throb between your lips. You look up and see his masked face looking down at you, see his eyes through the mask and suck him harder, deeper down your throat. You want to make this the best he's ever had, the best you've ever given.

You crave his seed. To taste it. To drink deep of it.

But he has other plans.

He withdraws from your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath and reaching out to pull him back.

"Please. I want it. Please!" you beg.

He lifts you and backs you toward the bed, sitting you there. He walks to the desk and grabs the blindfold, then returns to you and slips it on you. Then he pushes you back.

You hear a rustling sound, and in a moment he's on top of you. Naked.

You feel his body on yours, feel him touching you. Kissing you. Taking you.

You moan in pleasure as his lips find your nipples. He sucks and bites them - hard enough to elicit a gasp of pleasure from you, but not hard enough to be truly painful.

And you feel him. Hard against your skin. Wet from your mouth. Your body writhes at his touch. Aches for more.

His mouth meets yours. His kiss is forceful. He is taking what he wants. And you are giving it. All of it.

You are taken by surprise when you feel him thrust into you. No warning. No preparation. But you didn't need it. You were dripping wet for him already. And he thrusts in deep, invading you. And you want it so bad.

You wrap your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back and cry out as the first orgasm takes you.

He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down. In fact, if anything, your orgasm propels him onward. Thrusting deeper and harder and faster.

You are being fucked. Not made love to. Not having sex. You are being fucked. He is using your body for his pleasure, and you know it, and you love it. And it makes you cum again. And again.

How many times have you cum? How long has he been inside you. It feels like hours. Days. Thrusting in and out, filling you. Kissing you...

He thrusts deep and holds it, then rolls over, keeping himself inside you as you settle on top of him. And ride him. You ride him hard as he lays back, holding your hands, fingers intertwined with yours. You feel yourself manipulating your muscles to massage his manhood, wanting nothing in the world more desperately than to feel him explode inside you. You work yourself up and down on him, fucking yourself with his cock.

You feel him nearing his climax, but he throws you off. He turns you over and takes you from behind. You scream in ecstasy when you feel him inside you again. He reaches up and grabs a fistful of your hair. He pulls hard on it as he shoves himself into you. His balls slap your clit with each thrust as he pounds you without mercy. Then he shoves your head down against the bed and continues to abuse your pussy. You are screaming and crying in orgasm. You feel every bit of his cock with each thrust. Every nerve ending in your pussy is alive and screaming in pleasure.

Another orgasm comes over you. You nearly pass out from the intensity.

He stops, pulling out he rolls you over. You sit up fast, before he can do anything, and wrap your lips around him once again, tasting yourself on his cock. You suck greedily on him and he grabs your head and begins thrusting. He's fucking your mouth.

You reach for the blindfold and almost get it off before he grabs your hand roughly.

He pulls out of your mouth, shoves you back, and thrusts himself into you once more.

Harder, more violently than ever. He pounds your pussy so hard that you think you're going to be bruised. But you don't care, you need him. You need his seed inside you.

You fuck back, rising up to meet each of his thrusts. Pounding your poor pussy back against him. you wrap your arms around him and claw his back as he pummels you.

And without warning it happens. One powerful thrust deep inside you and you feel him explode. His cum shoots deep inside you, filling your womb with his seed. He grinds against you and you keep him in, using your muscles to milk every drop of him into you.

he collapses on top of you. You can feel his chest heave and his heart pounding inside.

And your body is exhausted. Used up. Covered in sweat, you pass out completely.

_____


You slowly come to. Your senses slowly fade back in. You hear sounds in the background. You see light behind your eyelids and slowly, hesitantly, your eyes flutter open.

You're home. In your own bed.

How?

Why?

You slowly rise. You are clothed in the same clothes you wore Friday night.

You walk to the bathroom and look in the mirror. You see no change since Friday night. You look at your arms and see no signs of rope burns. You pull down your pants and look over your shoulder in the mirror and see no signs of your ass having been whipped or paddled.

You walk to the kitchen, dumbfounded. You go through the motions of making coffee. You're depressed now.

Was it all a dream? An amazing dream, but a mere dream.

Walking through the house with your coffee, you survey your life. Until Friday night, you would have said you were happy. Satisfied. Looking for more, yes, but not needing it.

This dream has you wondering. What are you missing out there by living your nine-to-five life? A sigh escapes your lips and you take another sip of your coffee, then walk back to the bedroom to start getting ready for work.

What is that?

You didn't see it before. You rolled out of bed without noticing it. You see it laying on a chair in your bedroom.

You walk hesitantly. Dumbfounded and speechless. You drop to your knees next to the chair and reach out for it.

You turn it over in your hands and stare at the cherubic face of the mask. Its eyes hollow and lifeless. There's no mistake. This is the mask. It was not a dream.

You are left, on your knees, clutching the mask, and wondering.

Who was this man?

Spinning lazily, suspended over the bed, you drift in and out of a dreamlike state.

You’re laying on the lounge chair next to him as your friend and Dr. Todd are furiously making out. You see him slide his hand under her shirt, and she reaches to massage the bulge in his pants. Is she going to fuck him right here? You two are close friends, and have always been pretty open with each other… but not this open.

Todd notices that he and she have an audience and breaks free of her, laughing about how they were getting a little carried away. Your friend is pouting, but more out of fun. She’s pretty sure she’s getting laid tonight.

They straighten up and your companion grabs another round of drinks. He hands you a flavored malt beverage – one of those trendy things that’s low on alcohol. Todd says you should be ok now, but just one. He pops it open for you and hands it to you and you sip it slowly. It tastes thick and syrupy and sweet in your mouth, so you drink slowly.

The four of you begin talking. You still cannot hear his voice. Why can’t you remember his voice? You must have heard it then – but its like someone has erased the tape in your mind.

“A psychiatrist!” your friend exclaims. “Are you going to analyze me, doctor?” she says to the man next to you.

“Nah, he’s more into research, aren’t you,” Todd says, tipping his bottle in the other man’s direction. “What’s that project you’re working on now? Studying the nature of dominant and submissive behavior in contemporary human sexuality?”

Your ears perk at that. Your friend squeals in delight and jumps up. She bends over, sticking her ass out, and says “are you going to spank me daddy?”

“Nah, its not like that,” Todd says laughing. “This guy is into the real hardcore shit. Bondage. Torture. A total mindfuck!”

“Sounds kinky,” you say, yawning.

“Kinky doesn’t cover it,” Todd says. “This guy uses hypnosis! I saw one of the videos. When he was done with her, this one girl didn’t even know what had happened. It was intense. It’s so heavy, he even has a waiver that the girl has to sign.”

“What, a release form?” you ask. Your friend laughs.

“Looks like someone’s getting interested,” She says. You scowl at her, but inwardly you’re fuming at how right she is.

“Let’s see the waiver,” Todd says.

After temporizing for a moment, the man stands up, walks into the house, and comes back a few moments later with a leather folio. He opens it and sets it down on the table between the lounge chairs.

Your friend snatches it up and sits next to you. She starts reading it out loud, muttering through the legalese. In short, it releases him form any responsibility for causing any long-term physical or psychological damage to the participant. It also spells out that the activities may be filmed and presented in academic circles. Idenities will be redacted and faces will be obscured, but the rest may be published for research purposes.

You follow along, your head swimming. Are you really considering this? You don’t even know this man and you’re actually considering letting him own your body for a period of time “not to exceed seven days.”

“What do you say?” your friend says to you. “Let’s do it!”

I only accept one at a time. You don’t hear the voice, but you know that’s what he says.

Your friend looks stricken. She was really excited about this. But she looks over at Todd and back at you and makes her decision. She hands the pen to you and gets up and walks back over to Todd. She straddles his lap and grinds into him as you sit there holding the pen.

The pen gold. The leather folio is blood red. You feel like it’s a contract to sell your soul.

Maybe it is.

You don’t remember actually moving the pen, but you see your name there. Your handwriting. Your signature.

He stands. Takes the folio and pen, and walks back into the house. He comes back a few moments later and taps Todd on the shoulder. Todd gently pushes your friend off him and follows the man into the house. They come back out a few moments later and Todd asks you to come with him. He stays out with your friend as Todd leads you inside, to a bedroom.

“He asked me to examine you. Just to be safe, mind you. He wants to make sure you’re healthy enough and your frame of mind is clear enough to make this decision.”

“Ok,” you reply.

Todd checks your blood pressure, your reflexes, pulse, and all the other typical basics. He asks you a few questions, and notes your answers on a form. When he’s finished he leads you back out. While walking down the hall he stops and turns to you.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. And you can stop him at any time. He will give you a safe word. Remember it. But if you use it, the experience will be over. He won’t resume. Won’t try again. If you say its over, its over. This is your last chance to decide.”

You say nothing and walk on down the hall and outside.



Tap. Tap. Tap. He’s coming.

The door opens. He enters. As you lazily turn through the air you see him, mask and all. Though you cannot see his face, somehow you know he’s smiling. Something in the eyes. Those eyes.

He stops your rotating, and caresses your cheek. You wonder what he’s thinking. Is this all academic to him? Are you really just a guinea pig? A rat in his maze? Don’t you get a piece of cheese?

Well, if orgasms are the cheese. You’re well-fed.

He spins you around… letting you swing in the air. You’re rotating quickly rocking back and forth, feeling dizzy. He walks to the desk. You hadn’t seen it before, but the top of the hutch is a set of glass-faced cupboards. Inside you see things. Frightening things.

The things in that cupboard look very old – antiques. They can only be described as sexual torture devices. For both men and women. Cruel, evil looking implements. Things with spikes and even blades. He won’t use those, will he?

What is my safe word? You ask yourself. If he opens that cabinet, you will surely need it.

But, for now, he doesn’t. He opens a lower cabinet. Inside you see something almost as frightening. It’s the largest dildo you’ve ever seen. It would be impossible for you to take that. It would destroy you.

He removes it and sets it down, along with a large tube of lube. Your pulse races. He can’t think he’ll get that in you?

He turns toward you and stops your spinning. He then lowers you back to the bed. You lay there, face-down, hog-tied. He caresses and strokes you, soothing you. But you’re still frightened of his intentions.

He begins to loosen the bonds on your legs, then your arms. He rolls you over on your back for the first time since you arrived. He attaches ropes to your arms, holding you to the bed posts. He places a pillow under your ass, lifting it up, then ties your legs spread open wide.

He strokes your skin, soothing you more. There is something about his touch that has an almost magical quality. Your pulse starts to slow again. You are still worried, but somehow trusting.

He ties a blindfold over your eyes, putting you into darkness. He moves back to the desk and collects the new torture instruments, then lays on his elbow on the bed, between your legs.

He begins kissing your inner thighs. He must have removed the mask. Kissing, licking, teasing. Your breath comes rapidly as he works upward until his lips and tongue are massaging your vulva and clitoris.

The first orgasm comes quickly. But he doesn’t stop. He continues… adding his fingers to the mix. One finger first, then two… then three.

Orgasm after orgasm washes over you. These are not the intense kind, but the comfortable kind… you could keep this up all day.

Three fingers are in you, spreading you, probing you. You fee full, but not painfully so.

There is a strange tingling… the sensations seem duller…less intense. You realize then that the lube he used must have something in it. Benzocaine, maybe? You still feel the sensations, but they are less powerful.

Then you realize he has four fingers inside you… spreading you wider… opening you wider. And still it doesn’t hurt. It feels full, you feel stretched, uncomfortably so, but not in pain.

“No,” you groan. “Too much.”

Words appear in your head. Calm. Rational. Clinical. A woman’s vagina can pass a child safely in the act of birth. It can expand as needed, and contract as needed, it only takes relaxation and control.

“Oooooohhhhhh” you groan. His thumb slips in….and in a moment his while hand is inside you. He moves it gently… Twisting at the wrist and applying gentle pressure. It hurts now, but it’s a dull ache, and you can handle it.

Now and again your mind realizes what is going on and your vaginal muscles contract, causing pain. But his touch on your leg, a soft, soothing stroke, relaxes you almost magically almost….

Hypnotically.

His hand withdraws slowly and you feel his lips on your thigh. His other hand strokes gently and you feel waves of relaxation course through your body.

The next sensation causes you to tense again. His soothing touch is not as effective. You’re terrified of what is coming. You saw the dildo. You cannot comprehend its size.

My safeword, you think to yourself, what is my safeword?

The massive toy presses on your lips. They are still spread wide and gaping from his hand. It presses between them and you feel the massive head pushing. It’s like a giant, a man twenty feet tall, is penetrating you. You cry out, but strangely the pain does not come. You feel it stretching you. Its enormous. The head is in now… thicker than his hand. Perhaps the diameter of a baby’s head? You think back to those words. You can do this. Your body was made to handle it. You can do it.

You’re breathing hard as you feel it push deeper. You scream out as the first wave of pain hits you.

And then, its as if a wall is broken. Endorphins flood your bloodstream and the pain is overwhelmed by pleasure. You’re high. Like a runner’s high. And while the pain receptors in your body are dulled, there is still stimulation… still pleasure.

When the orgasm hits, you don’t expect it. It comes on you without warning. You scream – this time in ecstasy. Your vagina floods, squirting out your nectar and drenching your captor.

And now he’s fucking you with it. You cannot believe the feeling. So full. More than you ever thought possible. It’s enormous. Its inhuman. And suddenly you can’t get enough.

You’re thrusting back on hit. You’re fucking yourself with this massive cock. You want more of it. You scream in orgasm again, gasping for breath.

You must have passed out. There is no motion. You feel it still in you, feel him stroking your thigh, but the dildo is not moving.

He slowly extracts it. The head slips out and you feel the vaginal secretions dripping down onto the bed. He kisses your inner thighs and licks up some of what is left behind, then puts the toy away.

He unfastens your legs and removes the pillow from under you. Your arms are still bound, but your legs, for the first time, are left free.

He kisses your forehead and drapes a blanket over you. You hear him closing drawers and cabinets, then he removes the blindfold and you stare up into his eyes again , through the mask as always.

He steps back and walks away, out the door, and down the hall.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Part 5

Good evening ladies... Part 5 requires a visual aid. You'll understand why soon enough.



You and your friend are in the back seat again. You’re sitting back, feeling a little more stable. Dr. Todd was right: the food and water has helped. You’re still not yourself entirely, but much better.

The man driving is a cipher. He stepped in when you were being taken advantage of. Did your former dance partner dose you? Did your mystery man save you from being ? He seems so aloof. Yet, you know he was watching you.

You can’t wrap your brain around this man: and his anonymity is gnawing at you. You can’t even see his face. Why can’t you see his face? Your friend can. You can see the other male occupant of the car. But this man is a blank. An everyman. A no-man.

You drive a while. Your friend is reaching around the seat in front of her to tease Dr. Todd. He seems to be a little annoyed, but going with it. Why not? She’s attractive. She’s probably good in bed. She’s obviously willing. Why wouldn't he? It’s not like this is destined to be a relationship for him.

On some level you feel bad for your friend. She’s going to be fucked to night. Not made love to. Not have sex. She’s going to be fucked. He’s going to use her, and probably never talk to her again. She’s definitely interested in him. She’s all but taking off her clothes already. And you know her well enough to know what will happen. She’ll give in, and he won’t call, and you’ll spend three or four weeks trying to convince her that she’s not just a toy that men want to play with and forget. Maybe she is…but only because she’s so needy. If she’d slow herself down and play a little hard to get, maybe she could do better.

No sense on dwelling on that now. That problem would come in its own time.

The car turns into a drive way far out of town. There are other houses nearby, but there’s no less than a hundred yards between each. They’re nice houses. People here are doing ok. Not rich. But definitely the higher end of middle class. The driveway is a long gravel strip. Up near the house it’s paved, and your driver parks around the side, in front of the garage.

Your friend is in awe, “This is your place?” she asks Dr. Todd.

“No, it’s his. I have a loft downtown.”

You are lead around back where there’s a lit pool, a hot tub, and an outdoor living area. Your friend wants to swim.

Do as you like. He said it, but you never heard it. You don’t recall a voice, just the words. She strips naked and jumps in. Todd is laughing and opens a refrigerator on the porch and grabs a beer.

“Anyone else want one?”

You do, but your host won’t let you. He gets you Gatorade. Todd agrees: no more for you, tonight.

You sit on a lounge chair as your friend gets out of the water, naked and dripping, and jumps on Todd, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She kisses him… and he returns it. She’s nearly xxxxxx him, but he’s not complaining. And you suspect he’s happy that she’s not talking. You certainly are.

There’s a gas-fed fire pit on the porch, and your host lights it. He sits next to you, comfortably close, but not touching you or invading your space. He’s obviously still interested in you, but not pushing himself on you.

You don’t know why, but you feel insulted by that. Shouldn’t’ he want to kiss you right now? Shouldn’t he want to touch you? Your friend and Todd are grinding against each other less than twenty feet away, and he hasn't laid a finger on you, or even said anything to you. Why not? Doesn't he want you?

You feel his eyes on you though. Not staring, but catching you out of his periphery. Who IS this man?



You wake with a start. You didn’t hear the tap tap tapping, but you heard the door open. And shut.

He’s in the room. But there’s no sound. You feel his eyes on you, but can see nothing. If you hadn’t heard him arrive, you wouldn’t know he’s there. But you do know. You know he’s there, and staring at you.

Your heart is pounding. What will happen now? What more could he possibly do? What are you in for now?

The blanket is pulled away. The room is even colder than before. Has he turned down the air? Is he trying to freeze you?

His fingers trace over your back. You feel slight pain, almost like a sunburn, in spots. It must be from the wax. Its not bad, but its there, reminding you of your last session.

His touch seems even more tender now, or perhaps you're just learning to appreciate it more.

Appreciate? You're his captive. What if you demanded to be released. Would he? Where is this going?

You realized you haven't even asked to be released. You haven't asked to be set free. Why not?

You instantly know why: you've never felt more alive. You've never felt more desired. You've never felt more cared for.

Wait... what just happened? Did he kiss your back? Yes... his lips... kissing your back, the small of you back. Tender and gentle.

WHO IS THIS MAN?

He steps back to the table. A drawer opens, a cupboard opens and closes. You hear the tinkling sound of metal on metal. Chains? You are already bound. What would the chains be for.

You feel cold metal on your back. You feel him tugging on the bonds. Adjusting them somehow. He steps beside you, to the side away from your head, and unties the rope holding your right arm out, bound to the bed post. He gently but insistently moves your arm behind your back, and you feel a snap link connect a loop on your wrist to something on your back.

He steps back and walks around, into your field of view.

Your head is in a position where you can't see up past his chest. He wears a white button down shirt and black pants. But you can't see more than that.

He unties your left arm, and does the same as with the right. So now your arms are tied behind your back.

He moves down to your legs. He unties the left and bends it back, connecting it to a length of rope. You can feel that its connected to the same point in the middle of your back as your arms are. He does the same with your left.

You lay, face-down, your arms behind you, your legs bent at the knee, all roped to your back.

he steps back and appears to survey his work a moment. He then double-checks some thing, adjusts something else, and attaches one more thing.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. He walks to the back of the room and you hear a strange sound.... a ratcheting...clickclickclickclick.

You fee something now... tightening... tightening... tightening....

You're being lifted. Pulled upward. Clickclickclickclick. Upward. An inch. Two inches. Four. Six. After what seems like an eternity, you find yourself hanging two feet over the bed, gently swaying.

You feel the pressure on your arms, legs, chest, waist... but its so evenly balanced. There is pressure, not pain.

He caresses your back, your ass, your leg. And then he gives your arm a gentle push....

And you are spinning... slowly. For the first time you can survey the room... you see the bed beneath you... You see A desk sits on the wall near the door, On the desk there is a hutch with cabinets, and sitting on the desk are various items... including a ping pong paddle and cat o' nine tails.

You spun further... and he comes into view.... his feet in perfectly shined shoes... his black pants.... his white shirt... and his face....

Only, its not his face. He wears a mask. A silver mask with the face of a cherub. You cannot see his face.

But his eyes peer out from behind the mask. Those eyes. Those burning, smoldering, piercing eyes.

His head tilts to the side as he watches you slowly rotate and he leaves your field of view.

On the next time around, he's moved toward the desk. Opening cupboards and drawers.

On the next spin he's facing you again. He reaches out and stops your spinning. You dangle in front of him... swaying gently.

His hand reaches out to caress you... He runs his hand through your hair, smoothing it back, and caressing your cheek tenderly. His hand ends under your chin, holding it up toward his, and looking deep in your eyes.

You can't take his gaze and drop your eyes downward.

He brushes a knuckle over your cheek again and rotates you partway to the left.

His hand caresses your side your shoulder... and your breast. He cups your breast.. feeling it full in his hand. Caressing, gently kneading. His other hand reaches in and tweaks your nipple. Pulling it gently. Tugging. Twisting. And then, he deftly reaches in and attaches a clamp to your nipple. A ripple of pain shoots through your nipple and sends a jolt down to your groin.

He gives a gentle push on your thigh and you rotate again... a half turn to the other side. He repeats the caresses and the nipple teasing, and clamps a second clamp in place. You see the two are attached with a chain. He gives it a tug and you moan loudly. You feel moisture beading on your lips. the way you are suspended, your legs are parted slightly... enough... and a rivulet of your sweet nectar slides down over your pubic mound.

He rotates you around until you are facing away from him... your wet vagina directly in his face.

You feel his hand slide up your thigh and finger traces over your lips. He wipes up your wetness on his finger, feeling all around. And suddenly spins you back around. You feel almost dizzy, overwhelmed with the sensations. You lift your head to see him and see his hand reach out, lifting his finger to your lips.

Greedily you wrap your lips around it and taste yourself. He slowly works his finger back and forth so you're sucking it like a small cock...

Your mouth waters and you are overcome by a desire to taste him. He is your captor and tormentor, but you NEED him. In your mouth. Your pussy. Your ass. Your pussy drips. You can feel how wet you are as it flows out, sliding down over your mound, dripping onto the bed.

"Please?" you whisper.

He steps back, turns away and grabs something off the desk. You rotate away from him and he stops you again, facing away.

The vibrator slips into you without effort. You're so wet you offer no resistance. It slides deep in and he turns it on. This isn't your typical vibrator.

Its like its supercharged. It vibrates wildly inside you. It doesn't take a minute before you're moaning out as the first orgasm hits you.

He jerks the chain between your nipples. The pleasure/pain makes you scream.

He pulls out the vibrator and rubs it on your clit. Suspended from the ceiling, you still squirm. Its too much. Overwhelming.

He jerks the chain again.

Another scream. The orgasm wracks your body in pleasure. He drives the vibrator back in and works it fast and deep. You're kicking your legs and writhing as you cum again. And again. And again. You lose count. The pure pleasure pushes you into a new plane of existence.

And then he stops. He turns off the vibrator and slowly extracts it.

Your head hangs down, your hair touching the bed. You're limp. You see between your hanging breasts as he reaches up and then the mask comes down. You cannot see his face through your body, and you haven't got the energy to fight the ropes and move. You feel him though... Feel his lips on your inner thigh... kissing and licking up until his tongue is on your wet lips. And he licks you clean. This pleasure is more delicate. And when another orgasm washes over you, it is like a warm wave on the beach caressing the sand.

After a moment he backs away and you see him lift the mask. He turns you around and stares into your eyes again through the mask. Then backs away. Tap. Tap. Tap. He opens the door and leaves... closing the door and walking down the hall.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.