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The Pain of Pleasure

1/5/2004

"Ten o'clock sharp. We'll be ready. Remember...no
perfume."
I hand her what appears to be a credit card but she can see
the name of the Hotel Diva, in the heart of the City, on the
front and its magnetic stripe on the back. It is 9:30pm and
the hotel is 3 blocks from the bar where we have just finished
our drinks. I take a last sip of my Patron and rocks and walk
out of the lobby bar and into the biting cold of the night.
I didn't give her much detail, other than what she needs
to know. Her curiosity has taken a hold of her stronger than
I expected but....somehow I knew, from the moment I first
looked into her blue eyes, that she was hungry. Not for me,
in the traditional sense, but ....for something she doesn't
even know yet. She has been wanting this her whole life and
doesn't even realize it. Tonight she will get to watch
first hand. And what a show she will see. Angela has always
been delicious in the past and I expect tonight to be no different.
And if I know her as well as I think I do, she will have dreams
for weeks about Angela. She will continue to dream until
she is in her place....feeling what Angela feels. But for
now, she remains clueless as to what this night will show
her.
------------
It's 945pm as I reach the door to the room. I slowly open
the door and I am pleased with what I see before me. Angela
is lying on the king size bed and it appears she has read the
note I left her and followed my instructions perfectly:
'Strip down to bra and panties and place the black satin
blindfold over your eyes. Lie on the bed and wait.'
She knows I have entered the room. She is smiling like she
just heard a dirty secret in class and can't laugh out
loud...it's a restrained smile. Probably because
she can feel me staring at her, my eyes dancing up and down
her beautiful frame. They say the Italians make a good car
and a smooth wine but it is nothing compared to their women.
Genetic goddess in my opinion. She has curves that other
women try to buy from surgeons. She has the kind of hair that
women take photos of to their stylist and ask for. And her
lips....the brightest, most succulent red....moist
and shining like a Ferrari in the nighttime rain of the big
city. The red is a gorgeous contrast to her black lace underwear
and blindfold. Before I can even think about starting I
take a good moment to soak her in. It takes all my energy to
keep from devouring her at that moment. She will be well
worth the wait and she will thank me for it. With her eyes
closed and her sense of sight removed she can probably identify
me by the Farenhiet on my body. I only wear it for her and she
rewards me for doing so each and every time.
"It's about time you got here"
I don't answer her. I can already feel the heat of the
room. I look at the thermostat on the wall and I can see that
she didn't turn off the heat that I had switched on prior
to her arrival. She probably appreciated the warmth when
she first took off her clothes. But soon the heat that once
comforted her will betray her.
Earlier in the evening I had come to prepare our room, a spacious
one at that. High ceilings with curtains from top to floor
that I have drawn shut, leaving the bustling Saturday night
outside. The white walls are dimmed by the only light in
the room. She has been a good girl and has not disturbed any
of the things I have put into place. Not even the desk lamp
that I have attached to the top of the headboard which now
shines down gloriously on the smooth skin of my angel. Her
forehead has a slight shine of sweat from its heat and proximity
to her face.
The radio rests on the table across from the foot of the bed.
Next to it is an empty ice bucket and a 4 inch square scented
candle with the hotel matches lying on its right side. I
pull out the chair from under the table and place it very
quietly near the foot of the bed. I can see Angela straining
to listen to what I am doing. If I know her as well as I think
I do then she will slide her blindfold up to catch a peek.
That's a no-no. I'll make sure that won't
happen.
I walk over to the nightstand and slide open the drawer.
Her head turns in my direction as if she can see what I am doing.
"Aren't you gonna say Hello?" she says
with a sexy smile.
I don't. Instead I pull out four white, silk ties. When
laid open they are about one foot across and wide. But right
now they are prepared exactly as I have left them with loose
knots on each end. Standing on her left I place one of the
loops over the knob on the headboard and give it a slight
tug so that it wraps itself around the knob with a firm grip.
Solid. Just the way I want it. I grab her left wrist and a surprised
twitch ripples her body.
"I was wondering when you'd touch me."
I raise her arm over her head and slide her wrist through
the silk loop. She lets out an approving moan as her imagination
begins to put the pieces together. The soft silk is her friend
for only a moment until I slide the knot tighter. Her hand
flexes open and she wraps the silk in her fist, as if she is
hanging from a cliff and that is her only chance. I walk to
the opposite side of the bed and do the same to her right arm
and within minutes the beautiful Italian princess that
lies before me is now bound. Her arms spread wide like an
Acapulco diver falling to the water.
I glance at my watch and its 3 minutes til 10. Time for Ice.
I grab the bucket and walk out of the room but before I do I
take a last glance at my pleasure that lies on the bed. She
is still wearing that same smile, but this one has an air
of anticipation. Her lips are now almost rivaled by her
crimson cheeks as the heat of the room begins to take its
desired effect. Without speaking a single word I walk out
of the room with the ice bucket in hand and close the door
behind me.
On my way back from the ice machine I hear the faint ding!
of the elevator down the hall. She is here just in time. Part
of me didn’t think she'd show up after all but human
curiosity is not to be underestimated. I reach the door
to my room and wait to see her round the corner. Wow. How lucky
am I? The chance to see and be with one beautiful woman is
thrilling but to be in the same room with two....I must be
doing something right. I wait at the door for her and watch
her walk towards me. Her platinum blonde hair swaying slightly
as she walks, somewhat nervously towards the door. If only
Angela could see her tonight....she would surely approve.
It was Angela who actually inspired me to find her...and
before I had a chance to ask her the real questions I found
myself caught up in something completely different. She
is more that what I have bargained for and she doesn’t have
a clue as to what I am going to give her tonight.
I can see her putting her room key in her small purse, as it
is no longer needed while I am here. As she approaches me
her eyes move to the bucket of ice that has been chilling
my hands for the last minute now. I wonder what she thinks
its for. She now stands silent beside me, clearly nervous.
You could almost hear the wings of the butterflies in her
tummy.
"You can walk away right now if you'd like.",
I whisper.
Her eyes fall to the floor, as if the answer to her dilemma
is written there, and then move back up to hold mine for a
good few seconds.
"No..... I'm ready....I think.", she
says. I give her one more long moment just to be sure. She
nods towards the door while her hands continue to fidget.
"Remember", I whisper "Not a single sound.
Got it?" She gives me an understanding nod and licks
her lips.
I place the card key in the slot and open the heavy wooden
door to our room. The heat of the room greets us immediately
as I close the door behind us. She quietly walks in ahead
of me and stops as soon as Angela comes into view. She is frozen
by the sight and I almost expect her to turn around and leave
but she doesn't. As I walk past her I point to the chair
by the foot of the bed and motion for her to take a seat. She
does, slowly and quietly, as I walk the bucket of ice over
to the table on the far wall. Angela is no longer smiling.
"I really didn’t know if you were gonna come back or
just be an ass and leave me-"
"Shhhh. No talking."
"You're no fun.", she pouts.
I pause for a second.
"If I hear one more word from you then I will leave you
and you will stay like this until the maid comes in to clean
the room tomorrow morning. You can explain to her that your
inability to follow instructions has put you in this position.
If you are good then all you deserve and more will come to
you. Nod if you understand."
Silence.....followed by a nod.
I can feel big blue eyes on me and I turn to meet their gaze.
She looks more confused than nervous now. She might even
be wondering why she is here. But deep down she knows why.
She had every chance to deny me but she didn't. Maybe
she thought her curiosity would be satisfied when she entered
the room but in reality, that’s when it blossomed.
Back to work I go.
I grab the matches and give it two strikes before it catches.
I light the wick and watch it flutter until it finally is
consumed by the flame. I walk the candle over to the nightstand
next to the bed and the sweet smell of jasmine and lavender
begins to dance in the air. I look Angela over and from this
view I can now see tiny drops of sweat starting to form on
her brow and neck. The top of her chest, near the sternum
is showing signs of moisture as her skin begins its cooling
reflex against the relentless heat of the lamp and the room.

I open the nightstand drawer and remove a bottle of body
oil and a sprig of mint leaves, placing them both on the table
top. I pluck two leaves off and crumble them between my thumb
and forefinger, waving them gently and close to her nose.
She recognizes the smell but has a confusion as to the source.
I gently dab my fingers on her top lip and I get a moan of approval
before she snatches my fingers in her mouth and begins to
suck on them.
I look over to the beauty in the chair and I can see that the
fragrant smells have relaxed her as well but the heat has
made her cheeks flush and her breaths deep. Her right hand
is on the top of her chest, more near the base of her neck.
I can see her rubbing a charm from her necklace in her fingers....a
nervous habit. Her eyes aren't on me but on Angela's
lips. Her mouth. My fingers. I can see already that she is
with me, not quite there, but she is with me now. Her knees,
peeking out from under her skirt are pressed tightly together.

Angela has her legs crossed at the ankles and she is rubbing
them together. Women use their legs for control. Maybe
she knows this, maybe she doesn't. But soon I will take
that control away and she will learn thru it's absence.
Her legs are truly a sight. High heels would make them look
terribly delicious ...but that will have to wait for another
night. The black lace bra and panties are the only thing
between us tonight. Soon there won't be anything.
I lift away from the bedside and walk to the table at the foot
and press play on the CD player. The sound of Spanish guitars
quietly fills the air, just barely audible over the hum
of the heater. I can see Angela’s body react to the music,
shifting as if she knows I am ready to begin. Her heels are
digging into the once cool sheets that lie beneath. Her
legs are moving up towards her buttocks and back down again.
The muscles in her arms are taut and her hands continue to
clench to the silk that holds her wrists in place.
I grab one of two glasses that rests on the table, upside
down. Angela struggles to hear what I am doing and I assume
that she doesn't recognize the sound of ice cubes filling
my tumbler glass. She is no longer hearing the music but
instead she is trying to see with her ears.
Her 4 remaining senses have been awakened. She hears the
room and its movements, it's mystery. She smells the
candle, in full heat now with a pool of wax peacefully resting
on top without the slightest ripple. Her lips have the slightest
trace of mint but the sweat from her upper lip has made its
way to her tongue as she continues to lick her warm lips.
The thirst is there and I can see it. Her skin is now pulsing
with excitement and warmth. Her breasts, always a sight,
are resting under the warm lamp and have the radiant glow
of a marathon runner. I would love to pull on her long black
hair but I have other plans in mind.
She feels the bed give under my weight as I sit next to her
hips. She is not the most patient woman in the world and my
first touch on her calves tell me that she has been waiting
too long. I run the back of my fingers along the length of
her body, starting low and moving up slowly and lightly
to her waist. Her lips part as if she is about to speak but
she doesn't....instead she'd rather just...feel.
Such a good girl. I knew she'd catch on. This isn't
about words. This is about feelings. I am going to show her
what feelings are. She will learn what pleasure is. She
will learn that pain is not the opposite of pleasure...but
the absence of pleasure. Most of all, Angela will learn
who she really is when everything has been taken away from
her. She is nothing more than human : a Pure Pleasure Seeker.
Body oil is underrated. We all have our own natural oils
in our skin. But with the help of oil, one can feel the true
texture and glorious smoothness of skin. And if the skin
is that of a woman, you can bet it is especially smooth. And
if you are fortunate enough to touch the hidden places of
a woman's body, then you might be able to imagine the
softness of a satin down pillow.
Angela is now warm to the touch on all parts of her body. She
visibly enjoys my touch and the music has her like a lullaby.
The sound of my rocks glass landing on the nightstand gives
her a slight twitch, like breaking her from a good daydream.
But she cannot hear me when I pick up the body oil in my right
hand. My left hand continues to stroke the full length of
her body with the back of my fingers, carefully avoiding
the bra and panties. She has told me in the past how she loves
the way I touch her down there. She has expressed stronger
gratitude at the way I kiss her down there. Suck on her. Flick
her with my strong tongue using force and the softness that
only a wet muscle could provide.
I know she thinks about it now. She can see that feeling,
not in front her but at the end of a road. She wants to run to
it but she knows better that to rush. So she waits. And she
waits because she has no choice but to wait. It is not up to
her how, or even when, she will be touched. In fact, she has
no say in this at all. No control aside from the rubbing of
her legs to release the tension that is building in her.
Not quite a full head of steam yet, but we haven't even
begun.
I hear a creak from the bedside chair and my eyes flash over
to her. She is now rocking slightly back and forth, with
the bottom of her skirt clenched in both fists, pulling
it down almost over her tightly pressed knees. She can feel
it too. She is waiting for me to stop teasing and she must
be able to sense what is happening to Angela. To feel without
sight is pure, and that's where Angela is going. But
to see a touch without feeling its sensation is mesmerizing.
Without laying a single finger on her tonight, she is still
able to feel what it must be like. Maybe she has never been
touched this way, or this gently. Maybe she has never had
a man make her wait. Either way I can see her imagination
filling in the blanks. I am looking directly at her but her
eyes never leave Angela. She is watching the skin react
to touch.
There are certain places on the body that don't get
attention very often. And when they finally get their moments
of contact... contact with skin that belongs to another...it
awakens. Like a child out of a deep slumber, ready to play
all day until exhaustion. The skin awakens and more importantly,
it responds. She can see the changing colors, subtle but
noticeable, in Angela's skin. Flushes of crimson
against a soft clean white. Her eyes are following my fingers
as if they were on her body. I pull her eyes with me down to
Angela's inner thigh and draw tiny circles that make
Angela turn her head into the pillow, whispering moans.
I have her now. She is with me completely. The curtains could
catch fire and she would still have her eyes locked on my
hands. I take my fingers and her eyes up near the soft, swollen
mound that lies underneath the lace panties. Angela begins
to whisper a "Please..." but stops short as
she remembers the rules. She can see a dark outline of moisture
has taken a place. I watch her as she bites down on her bottom
lip.
I pour oil into the palm of my left hand and place the bottle
back on the nightstand prompting Angela to look yet again
in that direction. Her silent questions are answered when
I grab her left ankle and rub a long streak of oil down the
back of her calves, behind her knees, to her thighs and the
base of her buttocks before I move back up to the ankle where
I rub the oil into the heel of her well pedicure feet. I can
see that her wrists are now bound tighter than before as
a result of her slight tossing and turning. The more she
moves the tighter they become and she is learning the strength
of silk. Silk that has been ironed to shorten the fibers
and make them stronger. They might as well be chains and
she might as well be a caged, wild tiger. If these ties were
to break, God only knows what she'd do.
Poor thing is ready to go but that is too bad considering
I've just started. She might think I am almost ready
to take her, and she is spot on. But I will wait and I am prepared
to wait as long as it takes. My wait will be rewarded with
every pleasurable minute that goes by. But her wait will
be different. Hers will be the kind of wait that frustrates.
I will build in her body a tension with out a resolution.
And the tension will build until it becomes pain. Actual
pain. An overflow of feelings and emotions and nowhere
to release them to. And right as I am about to lose her to the
pain, right when she gets to the edge, I will give her a taste.
A taste of freedom. A taste of pleasure that she never knew
her body could feel. But only a taste. And then I will take
it away. In it's place will be the pain but this pain
will be different. It's the pain of knowing what you
once had and lost. The pain of absence. Her hunger will increase
two-fold. With each taste of pleasure, each slice of heaven,
she will go higher and fall even harder. And she will hate
me. Hate me because I have taken everything away and she
has nothing. Hate me because she needs me more than water
to her warm lips in the heat of this room. But she will love
me. Love me while I release her. Love me because I have dominated
every nerve ending in her body to my command and obedience.
She will love me because I am giving her freedom and release
from all that pains her and she will be a new woman when she
leaves this room. Her food will taste different, richer....exploding
in flavors. Her eyes will see dazzling colors in the City
night and she will notice detail. All the details of the
sights that are pleasing to her eyes. She will wet her panties
at the first sound of a Spanish Guitar, or even the mere sight.
A flood gate of memories will overtake her. And she will
never be touched the same way again. It will be impossible
to break a threshold and simply return to your normal life
beforehand. No, her world tonight will be a new one when
she leaves. Things that were simple pleasures in the past
will be forgotten and replaced with a discriminating taste
for something....different, more fulfilling. Physically
and emotionally satisfying.
Her soft moans make the bulge in my soft cotton pants go from
stiff to rock hard. How I would love to just drive deep inside
her this very moment and turn those moans into screams.
She will call out to God at least 3 times tonight, as if He
will come down to save her or maybe just to thank Him. Or maybe
because she can feel closer to God than at any point in life.
A feeling this pure, natural and from so deep within can
only be a product of the Divine one Himself. With her eyesight
removed she will have a million flashes inside her mind
and she might just catch a glimpse...."God....".
The name Angela means 'angel like' or 'angelic'.
And here she is before me almost looking crucified to the
bedposts with the white silk ties to her wrists. Her legs
have remained crossed at the ankles the entire time. Not
a moment passed that she didn't squeeze her thighs
together like a fresh juicer trying to get the last drop
out of the orange. This has been her lone salvation, her
last ounce of control. It has provided, thus far, the only
means of release for the fire that I have started inside
her. And now, as I finished oiling down the last lonely spots
of her body, I will take away her legs.
Eyes from the chair grow wide as I stand up to reach for the
last two remaining silk ties that rest on the nightstand.
She knows what I am going to do with them but she looks as if
she wants to stop me. She knows what will happen when I take
her legs away. She will be spread open and defenseless,
completely at the mercy of my touch.
Angela listens intently as I walk to the foot of the bed and
place the ties around the bedpost knobs. The sound of the
soft guitars hides the swoosh of silk as I secure them in
place on both sides of the bed. Standing on her right side,
I place my hand on the base of her right heel. It lies on top
of her left and I pry open her legs, pulling her ankle to the
side edge of the bed. She lets out a small frustrated grunt
and her left leg follows close behind the right as she tries
to keep them together. She has an idea of what's coming
next and I confirm it with the slip of silk around her right
ankle and with one fell swoop she is now 3 quarters bound
with one leg remaining.
Walking to the opposite side of the bed I begin to do the same
with her left, but not without a struggle...a small one.
She clearly forgets the tie on her right as she tries to bring
her legs together and a short cry leeks out from her as if
she had just been pinched. It's the silk knot and the
relentless reminder that she is not in charge ...this is
her discomfort. After a slide of the knot I can now see my
prize, spread eagle on the bed, her back slightly arched
and her body moving, carefully, to adjust to her new position.

Her breast are now moving up and down with her short breaths
and she looks uncomfortable. But the facts begin to sink
in. Struggling makes things worse. Giving in is the only
option. In this realization she finds comfort and her body
goes limp, resigned to the ties. Sweat is now swimming with
the oil and her body has a shine that makes me want to touch
myself, but that is unthinkable right now. It's Show
Time.
Looking at Angela from the chair, my blonde beauty continues
to rock back and forth. I cannot shake the image of a racehorse
at the starting gates, waiting to burst into a full stride.
This is what they call 'chomping at the bit'. She,
too, is showing signs of a soft, sweet sweat on her brow and
neck. If she could move she'd probably take off the
black cashmere button up sweater that is over her blouse.
But she is paralyzed by the silence she wants to preserve.
I would love to see her take it off as well. I can see a gorgeous
pair of full natural breasts and the strain they hold on
the single button that holds her sweater closed. I will
have my day with her, eventually, but right now I have something
else on my mind: Scissors.
I reach again into the nightstand drawer and by now this
evokes a physical response in Angela. Her sight has been
removed for quite some time now and her remaining senses
are on high. She has come to recognize the sound and the unexpectance
that follows. What is he reaching for? What is he going to
do to me next?
I do nothing. I stand motionless with the scissors. The
rocking in the chair comes to a stop and the blue eyes are
no longer curious. They have fear. She is puzzled and her
imagination is running wild with possibilities. She doesn't
know me at all, she doesn't know what I would do. She
doesn't know where my limits are. All she knows is she
is on the top floor of a very warm room in the heart of San Francisco,
with a beautiful woman who is completely bound to the bed
like a blindfolded prisoner, and standing next to her is
me, scissors in hand.
She shakes her head at me in the most subtle way you could
imagine but it screams for mercy and sanity. She has seen
too much and she doesn't want to see anymore, she shouldn't
even be here. She isn't used to this...this is not how
her fiancée treats her. Or any man in her life. For her, love
making was a mutual act where both partners were involved.
It was soft and sensual. It was... comfortable and predictable.
It would always start the same way too.... with a sexy look
and they would make their way into the bedroom. But this...
it's like a horrible car accident on the road that you
pass by and cannot take your eyes off of. I could probably
open the door right now and she wouldn't even budge.
Not a single tie is strapped to her body but instead, I have
her curiosity in my hand like a thick, coarse chain that
is clamped around her neck. She too is my captive tonight.
She was bound before she even walked in this room. She isn't
going anywhere.
Her engagement ring keeps a radiant sparkle in spite of
the low light in the room. She will be saying her vows in less
than 3 weeks. She will marry her first love, the man who taught
her everything she knows about sex. But I am the man who will
show her what she doesn't know. She is only here because
she wanted to find out what her bridesmaid, Erica, learned
first hand two weeks ago. How was I to know that she'd
divulge every little detail of our one night encounter?
Until then, I was just a co-worker she'd seen in the
halls and copy room. A new guy but nothing out of the normal.
But Erica told her the truth about me.
Thinking back, it probably wasn't the smartest thing
to do, but when I saw Erica walk into the elevator... I could
see it in her eyes. She saw it in mine before she even stepped
in. Alone, for a moment I could feel my pulse racing in the
silence between us. I asked her if she, too, was a new hire.
She smiled and told me No. She was here to meet her best friend
and they were going to lunch. Maybe to discuss dress colors...I
don't know. I told her if, ever, her friend couldn't
make it to lunch, then I’d be more than happy to fill in. I
gave her one of my brand new business cards, the first one
I had handed out actually. She called me two days later.
I lied and said I couldn't do lunch, since I was swamped
with work, but I did have a huge appetite for dinner. She
agreed to meet later that evening at the Cafe Pro Bono, a
small Italian restaurant named for it's proximity
to the law offices in the downtown area. Dessert, however,
was at my place.
I can't say enough about Erica. She was fantastic.
Apparently she couldn't keep her mouth shut either.
Spilling out every last detail of her night to her best friend,
my co-worker, like it was an episode of Sex & the City.
That is when I can honestly say that it began.
Not even a day later, I was in the copy room when I felt eyes
on me. Turning around, I saw those same blue eyes that now
stare at the scissors in my hand. She is breathtaking, and
I can't understand how I missed her on my first day.
We were introduced for maybe 30 seconds before I went on
to the next person. The first day of a new job is so hectic,
trying to remember so many names. But how did I miss those
eyes? Maybe because they didn't have the look that
I saw in them that day in the copy room. Maybe I just saw a woman
who was on her way to the altar, a woman who couldn't
see any other man in her sight, so she looked right past me.
But those eyes changed with the knowledge she now had about
me. They were... curious. They were struggling to put the
actions she had heard about to the face she saw in front of
her. Part of her believed what she heard, but a stronger
part wanted to find out. I could see that a small fire had
been started inside of her, nothing compared to the flame
that is consuming her now.
The long steel blades of the scissors are extremely cool
to the touch. I lay them on top of Angela's warm stomach,
above her belly button sending a shockwave through her
body as she lets out a small, surprised scream. I watch her
struggle to recognize what is touching her. The initial
shock of the cold blades is now her friend on her warm skin.
I slide the scissors between her breasts and under the bra.
I cut the bra open in the middle and her magnificent breasts
expose themselves and throw open the once tight bra. I cut
off the shoulder straps on each side and slide the bra out
from underneath her. I continue to slide the refreshingly
cool blades around the bottom of her breast and she is smiling
ear to ear.
Her breathing is now a mixture of short huffs and moans.
She knows talking is out of the question so she makes up her
own language. I understand each moan perfectly, telling
me where she likes it. I could have gagged her to stop the
talking but then I’d miss out on the sounds of heaven that
pour out of a woman’s mouth while she is in ecstasy. I take
the blades down to her panty line and I get the best moan yet.
She raises her hips to help my hands meet her sensitive spot
but I move slowly away. This brings out a different moan.
One of complaint, hunger. I am careful not to let the sharp
points of the blade touch her skin as I cut open her panties
on each side of her hip. But these don't fall open like
the bra. The vee remains on top, covering her pubic area.
Spread open wide, I can clearly see that her panties are
now soaked. Her mound is swollen. The slightest touch would
send her off. And I am careful not to touch her while I remove
the panties from under her. But she continues to move her
hips trying to guide my hand in that direction. With each
movement her ties grown tighter. Her knuckles are now white
from the death grip she has on the silk.
I place the scissors on the table top and walk towards the
door to the bathroom. I run a small face towel under warm
water and ring it out good. I return to see a confused look
on two faces, one blindfolded and the other mesmerized.
I place the towel on the nightstand and I can see my ice tumbler
has a small pool of water at the bottom but there are a few
good size cubes that remain. I quietly pick one up into my
hand. Angela's nipples are rock hard.
With the slightest brush I move the ice over her right nipple
and do the same with the left. She is twitching with each
brush of the ice and her moans are restrained screams. I
continue to draw circles around her nipples and down the
middle of her chest. Her skin is at a fever now, the heat of
the room has consumed her. The ice is so cold that is burns
her skin, sending a mixture of sensations through her body.
The ice leaves a reddish trail over her skin before fading
away. I move the ice up to her neck and to the back of her ear
lobes. It's almost too much for her now.
Heat has cold as it's opposite like pain has pleasure
to counter it. She is feeling it all. The stinging pain of
the cold and the relief it brings to her feverish skin. I
draw the cube near her lips. Her tongue greets it for a small
taste. I gently rub her lips like the cube was a gloss. She
sucks on the cube and it quenches a thirst she hadn't
noticed until this moment. Her sweating has increased
as the cube reminds her of what cool is and how warm this room
really is. She is melting the cube at an extremely fast pace.
I let her forehead finish it off by pressing the cube to it
with my palm. Another cry escapes her, sounding of pain
first but landing in pleasure. Cold drips run down the sides
of her temple and kiss the sweat.
I begin to gently arouse her nipples with my left hand while
I reach for another cube using my right. She waits for me
to suck on her breasts as I have done in the past. But I don't.
I just play with them ever so slightly to make sure they are
still with me. Hard cannot accurately describe her nipples.
They hurt her now, like the rubbing of a bra on a very cold
winter day. There is a point where they become too sensitive.
In fact, Angela's body has become, in essence, one
giant nipple. Every square inch of her skin is alive to the
touch and reacts accordingly. She wants me to touch her
most private area but she doesn't even know what she
is asking for. If touching her skin makes her flinch and
moan what would happen the moment I press her true button?

This time the ice cube begins it's exploration of her
body near the soft pocket of her left ankle. Instinctively,
she tries to close her legs together, making the ties grip
her legs harder. Her lips are slightly open as I trail the
cube up the inner leg to her thigh and I barely touch the bottom
of her pussy. She gives all she has to move her body into my
hand but she goes nowhere. There is a good amount of moisture
pouring from her lips along with the sweet smell of arousal.

My hand retreats back to her feet, this time her right ankle.
Same motion, same reaction. But now I move up the side of
her hips and around to the top of her pelvic bone. Using the
base of my palm, I apply a small amount of pressure. This
sends her body into a frenzy, as expected. I release my palm
and give a ten count before I place it back on there again.
This time I hold it there for 20 seconds and release. Wait.
30 seconds. Remove and wait. Forty and then fifty. She is
near convulsions when I decide to spread her lips open with
my fingers. Her face tosses side to side into the pillows
and another scream escapes her when I touch the swollen
labia with the ice cube. I begin to brush it as I did with her
nipples. She knows, this time what is going to happen, the
memory of her nipple arousal still fresh in her mind. Faster
and faster I go.
She has reached the edge, and she is riding it. Riding it
hard. I am there too but I will wait. I must wait. I would love
nothing better than to place my tongue on her. She is dying
for me to take her beyond the edge, and as soon as I see her
about to reach beyond, I pull away.
But she still shakes and spews verbal putty, half moans
and half crying. I give her a moment to collect herself and
only the sound of the music and her choppy breathing fill
the room. She welcomes the break but is still overcome by
her hunger to finish. I begin on her again.
By now she recognizes the punishment and knows how this
song ends. I will take her higher and drop her again. And
again. And again. But now, with the last remaining half
of a good size ice cube, I watch her reach the edge again.
This time I don't take it away. I put it away, inside
her. This brings out the longest cry yet. The ice is moving
inside her warm body with every twitch of her hips. Her body
is rippling like I'd thrown a stone on still lake waters.
Unless she stays completely motionless, she will feel
every last movement of the ice against her inner walls.
But the sensations caused by the ice make stillness an impossibility.
I stand over her and watch her squirm and simultaneously
tighten her binds with her movements.
I see the sparkle of a diamond in the corner of my eyes, and
I turn towards the chair to see her hands move over her mouth.
Her eyes are wide as she watches Angela squirm as little
as she can. I can guarantee this was not part of her honeymoon
plans. But I also know she will still think of Angela when
she sleeps at night, when she takes to the altar, and when
she makes love to her faithful husband in the same missionary
position they have done over and over again. She never realized
that she wanted this. But she told me that it was always there,
dating far back to her days as a seventh grader when her best
friend, Melissa Lewis walked into class unusually late
one day.
Melissa Lewis was always clean and pressed, she told me.
But on that day... she walked in looking... wide eyed and
rumpled. One of her knee high socks was now scrunched around
her ankle. Her plaid skirt was twisted at the waist. And
her white blouse, always tucked in as was required at her
all-girls school, was now flapping out completely. When
Melissa pulled up her chair next to her she whispered, "You
won't believe what happened to me." She motioned
that a note was soon to follow and it was a matter of minutes
before Melissa Lewis discreetly passed the note to her,
while the teacher wrote the lessons on the front board.
She was entranced by what she read.
Melissa Lewis was walking her usual route to school. Half
way there she watched 3 boys, they were sixth graders, cross
the street towards her. They rushed up to her, pinning her
body and arms to the brick wall behind, and before she could
do anything she had a boy on each side of her using their feet
to spread open her legs at the ankles. The third boy, the
tallest of the 3, stood directly in front of her, using one
hand over her mouth and his other reaching under her skirt.
They had no idea what they were doing, in fact they only rubbed
the top part of her pelvis. And it was a matter of moments
before they ran off.
Wild images raced in her mind. All she could picture was
Melissa Lewis pinned helplessly. These images were stuck
in her mind for weeks... maybe longer. Years passed and
she never gave them a second thought. But they came flooding
back to her the moment she spoke with Erica. She listened
on the phone to all the details that she'd love to spill
about her 'latest', but this time all she could
picture was Melissa Lewis pinned against the brick wall.
I watch her bite down on her lips again. Her eyes leave Angela
to follow me back to the nightstand. She looks horrified
as I carefully pick up the fragrant candle, trying to keep
the smooth pool of hot, melted wax from pouring out over
the top.
I give Angela a few more moments of tranquility as I hold
the candle directly over her stomach. I watch her breathing.
It is as clam as it could possibly be for someone who is bound
and experiencing what she has felt tonight. The music is
her friend, her only friend that has been there for her during
the course of this night. It is the only sound that fills
this room aside from her heavy breathing. I let her ride
the notes of the guitar, let them soothe her. She isn't
even suspicious of the silence that has fallen over the
room. She isn't trying to listen to where I am at or what
I am doing. No, she is just enjoying a moment of peace. She
is soaking in all that she hears and all that she has felt
thus far. She probably thinks I am done with her... and maybe
she is in the clear now. I let these thoughts play in her mind
for just a few moment longer, before I decide that it is time.
Wax. Hot wax. Hot wax spilling over the candle, dripping
just below her breasts. Her body nearly jumps off the bed
and this elicits a scream to God that makes me hope there
is no one in the rooms next to us. With my free hand I grab the
warm towel. I watch the wax harden on her skin before I wipe
it away. She is weeping gently now. I begin my next pour directly
on her left nipple and she responds with a loud, "FUCK!!".
In spite of the rules, I'll give her that one for free.
She has been a good trooper thus far. She is still sobbing
as I wipe away the hard wax. She knows her right nipple is
next... it is a logical progression. But instead of hot
wax I quietly grab another ice cube from the tumbler and
I proceed to place it directly on her nipple. Her scream
tells me that she is convinced that she has been burned by
the wax. I hold it there until she realizes what it truly
is, and then I remove it.
She is beyond words now. Tears are running down her face.
I place my candle and towel back on the nightstand, loud
enough for her to hear it. I hear the faintest "thank
you..." through her heavy breathing. I walk over
to the foot of the bed and remove the tie on her left leg. She
is still shaking when I remove the right tie on her leg, freeing
her once again to squeeze her thigh together. It is almost
as if she had done it for the first time in years judging by
the sound she makes.
I am burning up inside and my appetite could not be stronger.
I can think of nothing else other than wrapping those legs
around me and fucking her hard. She shares my sentiments.
I walk over to the door and quietly open it. I look over towards
the chair and I silently mouth the word "Go"
to her. Her eyes are moist too, as if she had been crying.
She slowly turns back toward Angela and gives her one more
look over before she stands and walks to me. She stops at
the door and holds my eyes. She wants to speak. I can see the
question on the tip of her lips... What are you going to do
to her?
I lift my had to point outside to the hall, silently telling
her that it is time for her to leave. She walks slowly out
the door but her eyes never leave mine, waiting for me to
ask her back in. I close the door and leave her standing in
front of the room. She can still her Angela trying to recover.
I am positive she can hear her screams when I climb on top
of her and drive my cock inside her. The sounds will follow
her all the way down the hall and into the elevator.
But the sounds will be the loudest when she is dreaming,
at home, lying next to her man.

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