Fictional Fantasies - Surrendering to the demands of the hottest stranger you've never seen - Chapter 1
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‘I literally can’t remember the last time I got laid,’ joked Luke, rubbing a hand across his stubbly, blond chin. ‘Probably a charity shag on Valentine’s Day.’
‘Huh! Join the club!’ Meg grimaced. ‘It’s probably been nearer a year for me.’ Liar, she thought to herself, guiltily picking at her nail varnish. You can treble that estimate.
‘Yeah, but Meg. I live in the same house as Beth. Sleep in the same bed. We’re supposed to be in a loving relationship. Whereas you’re…’
‘I’m depressingly single and probably way too picky to ever be anything else now.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘I’m sure it is! I need a guy who intuitively knows what I want without me having to sit him down and spell it out. That would just blow me away. But he’d need to be a bloody mind reader!’ she laughed, twisting her long brown hair through her fingers.
‘What is it that you want?’ asked Luke thoughtfully, his blue eyes crinkling.
‘I want my fantasy man to act out my fantasies.’
‘And what are your fantasies?’ asked Luke quietly, putting his feet on the coffee table in front of him.
‘A secret,’ smiled Meg, cradling her glass of wine. ‘You see my problem?’
‘Do you think, if I knew Beth’s secret fantasies, she’d want me again? We used to shag like rabbits. I used to be what she needed,’ admitted Luke sadly.
‘Perhaps,’ ventured Meg. ‘Have you talked to her about it? Can you ask her?’
Luke shook his head.
‘Diaries?’ she enquired.
‘I couldn’t read someone’s diary!’ exclaimed Luke, looking shocked. ‘Besides, I don’t think she keeps one.’
‘Favourite books, films?’ Luke looked blank.
‘I hate to say it, Lukie, but I’m not sure you’re paying enough attention,’ observed Meg, swallowing the last of her wine and placing her glass carefully on the table. ‘Right, shall I take a quick look at this problem with your computer before I go?’
Sitting at the desk in his study, Meg admired the photographs adorning the small, cosy room in which she sat. Most of them were of Luke and Beth in various sunny locations, grinning cheesily at the camera. Sometimes they were clearly drunk, but always seemingly happy. Although they’d met several times, Meg and Beth had never been close friends; Beth always seemed a little apprehensive that Luke could have a platonic female friend who wasn’t a threat. Meg also represented the single life that Luke had enjoyed before they’d met; it hadn’t been particularly wild or exciting, but all the same, Beth had obviously not been a part of it and therefore regarded it with suspicion.
The software update Meg was installing for Luke seemed to be taking forever and she was running out of activities to do while she waited. Standing up and stretching, she wandered over to the window and stared dreamily outside. It was a fantastic English summer’s day; the sun shone hot and bright through clear blue skies. Dark, thick, green foliage of the surrounding oak trees stood out in direct contrast, and a heat haze was starting to build.
All in all, it was an absolutely perfect afternoon for the beach. Which, co-incidentally, was where she was heading in a few minutes. Bliss! And talking about bliss, the most gorgeous man Meg had ever laid eyes on was wandering half-naked around the garden. Ducking down, to stay out of his line of vision, Meg watched a tall, well-muscled, dark-haired man digging beside the shed. Dressed only in denim shorts torn at the knee, with sweat visibly running down his naked torso, Meg could see the pronounced muscles in his forearms and taut stomach as he worked. Gosh, he must be fit, displaying that level of stamina on such a hot day. Pity she didn’t have a reason to hire a gardener, although he might become suspicious to be called in just to tend to the flowerpots on her patio! Hearing Luke‘s approaching footsteps, Meg mentally shook herself, smoothed down the front of her skirt and turned to face the door.
‘Nearly there!’ said Meg in an over-bright voice, trying to ignore the hot flush that had appeared across her neck and chest from watching the gardener.
‘Thanks so much, Meg,’ smiled Luke. ‘You know how utterly computer illiterate I am!’
‘I certainly do!’ agreed Meg. Concentrating on the screen, she hit a sequence of keys with a flourish. ‘Right, that’s all done. Consider your new anti-virus software installed. So, now the boring stuff’s out of the way, are you sure you can’t come to the beach with me?’
Stripped to the waist, Jack strode into the kitchen and made a beeline for the sink. He downed a pint of water in seconds, immediately running the tap for a refill.
‘Phew! It’s crazy hot out there, little bro!’ he said, wiping beads of sweat from his face with his forearm.
‘Yeah, looks it,’ replied Luke distantly.
‘Any time you feel like helping out,’ said Jack with heavy sarcasm. ‘Please be my guest.’
‘Sorry. Stuff on my mind.’
‘Yeah? Who was the girl?’
‘Meg,’ replied Luke.
Jack looked quizzically at his younger brother and shrugged.
‘I’m sure I’ve mentioned her before,’ explained Luke. ‘While you were away slumming it in Edinburgh…’
‘That was nearly twenty years ago. And I’m not sure studying veterinary medicine at university, quite constitutes slumming it,’ interrupted a laughing Jack.
‘You say potato, I say pot-ato,’ Luke shrugged. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, whilst you were slumming it, Meg and I were living the high life at sixth form college. She was one of my best mates.’
‘Just a mate?’ questioned Jack. ‘You sure? She looks pretty cute.’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ replied Luke. ‘She’s my friend. And, incidentally, ten times better than any of the high maintenance, shallow women you’ve ended up with over the years.’
‘Thanks. None taken,’ said Jack sardonically. ‘Sounds like you’re trying to set me up on a date.’
‘No chance! I wouldn’t do that to her! Although, I have to say, Mum would view her as perfect daughter-in-law material.’ Jack rolled his eyes. ‘But she’s way too sweet for the likes of you,’ grinned Luke.
‘Just as well,’ replied Jack, raising his eyebrows. ‘I can’t think of anything more boring than going on a date with Little Miss Perfectly Innocent Goody-two-shoes! I saw her on your computer, by the way.’
Luke nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘What was she doing?’
‘A favour for me.’
‘Huh! How very secretive,’ replied Jack sarcastically. ‘Mind if I go and check my emails before I get back outside?’
‘Course not. And then, if you’re very lucky, I might come out and give you a hand.’
‘Wow, I’m honoured. You’re going to help me work in your garden?’
Unlike his brother, Jack’s technology skills were exceptional. With his interest in Meg heightened, he navigated his way methodically through the deleted internet history which had accidentally been left in the trash folder. Jack soon discovered that Meg had briefly logged into a writer’s chat room; a site to which she hadn’t actively logged back out again. Using her still enabled login, Jack scanned through her private messages and posts, slowly piecing together an extremely interesting picture. It looked as though the oh-so-innocent Meg had herself a secret hobby. Writing erotic fiction, no less, under the pen name of Jamie Mitchell.
Jack scanned through a number of the online stories that Meg had recently submitted and felt himself starting to grow hard. So not quite the straight arrow that his brother believed her to be? How very interesting. With Jack’s fascination in this girl suddenly ignited, he leaned back quietly in the chair, ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair and let his mind race. He had a direct route to Meg’s most private, secretly intimate sexual fantasies. And, unlike his brother, Jack’s moral compass, on the rare occasion that it worked at all, never pointed true north. This was definitely a situation he needed to exploit to his full advantage, although it would take some careful planning. He’d kick it off by spending the rest of the day subtly quizzing an unsuspecting Luke for some useful background information on Meg.
It had been several weeks, but Meg still found her thoughts flitting to the tall, exceptionally sexy gardener that she’d caught a tantalising glimpse of in Luke’s garden. After a light dinner one evening, Meg sank blissfully into the corner section of her sofa and flipped open her laptop. Her fictional hero Sam awaited her and she smirked at the thought of what naughty deeds she would type out for him to undertake tonight.
She’d hit an impasse recently which culminated around Sam tying his partner to the bed to have his wicked way with her. Having never been restrained herself, Meg always found it difficult to describe such scenes in detail, but was hopeful that tonight she could get past her writer’s block. After all, other authors must rely on imagination, as opposed to experience, for a good deal of their storylines. Nobody knew what it was actually like to live on another planet, survive a nuclear winter or, for that matter, attend wizarding school, did they?
With this dilemma scurrying around her head, Meg logged onto the writers’ chat room to check for any messages. Several of the usual suspects were logged into the public chat room and what looked like a heated discussion regarding royalty payments seemed to be taking place. Just as Meg was about to log back out, a window popped up requesting a private chat. Meg accepted the invitation from a user who went by the name of NimbleKimble and waited as a message was typed to her.
[NimbleKimble]: Hi, thanks for speaking to me.
[JMitchell]: Hi, no problem. Great name, by the way. Are you nimble?
Seconds later, a new message appeared. Meg acknowledged that the person on the other end must be touch-typing at a formidable speed. Good punctuation too, which was always a bugbear of hers.
[NimbleKimble]: Well, my fingers certainly are…I’ve read your stories and I have a few questions, if you don’t mind?
[JMitchell]: Sure. Fire away.
[NimbleKimble]: When you write your lead character Sam, are you writing from direct experience?
[JMitchell]: God, I wish!
[NimbleKimble]: So, it’s all just fantasy?
[JMitchell]: Not all, but mostly, yes.
[NimbleKimble]: You have a very active imagination then, I commend you. What would you do if your partner suddenly played out one of the scenes you had written?
[JMitchell]: I’d be a very happy girl. But I’d also know I was dreaming. I neither have a partner, nor know anybody who is able to link my pen name and my real name.
[NimbleKimble]: Okay. Not a partner. Say me, for example. Imagine if I found out the truth and, for one night only, I became Sam. Wouldn’t that be an example of real life being way preferable to fiction? Would you go through with it?
Suddenly hyper-aware of her own heartbeat, Meg paused, unsure of how to respond to this super-confident correspondent. My God. That would be her dream; somebody who understood her, deep down. Instinctively and intuitively knew what she wanted…how she needed to be touched. Whilst Meg’s thoughts were racing away with her, further comments were being typed. Glancing at them, she wasn’t afraid to admit that they made her breath turn fast and shallow, whilst an insistent pulse began to beat between her legs.
[NimbleKimble]: Sam wouldn’t be edging his thick cock into some nameless brunette; he’d be sliding inside you.
[NimbleKimble]: His fingers would tease your body.
[NimbleKimble]: His tongue would snag across your nipples.
[NimbleKimble]: It would all be happening to you. For real.
[JMitchell]: Sorry, for the pause. Just taking a cold shower! But I sadly refer you to my previous answer and that situation won’t change.
[NimbleKimble]: Never say never. I hope we’re able to talk again soon.
--- NimbleKimble has left the conversation ---
Following an early morning run and an invigorating shower, Luke flipped open his laptop screen and began to tuck into a bowl of cereal. Deep in thought, he was reading an email from Meg, when the back door opened and Jack strolled in. Luke jumped guiltily.
‘What are you up to mate?’ asked Jack, clocking the message straight away. ‘Beth not about?’
‘No, she’s staying with her sister for a few days,’ replied Luke, closing the laptop screen firmly.
‘Everything okay with you two?’
‘Sure. Her sister’s just had a baby, so Beth’s gone there to help.’
Jack nodded. Grabbing a glass and the carton of orange juice, he settled down opposite Luke.
‘I couldn’t help noticing that email was from Meg. Do you need to talk?’
Luke was silent for a long moment and then shook his head.
‘Not really. I’m just failing on all fronts with Beth. Meg was trying to offer me some advice on how to fix things.’
Jack raised an eyebrow. This he had to see.
‘Can I take a look?’ Luke reopened the laptop, sighed and swung the screen around to face his brother.
‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ said Luke sadly, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘But I really thought Beth was the one. Things just seem to have become stale. She’s not interested in me anymore.’
‘She’s definitely still interested in you, buddy. Besides, why shouldn’t I understand that?’ questioned Jack, scanning carefully down the screen, a look of distinct concentration on his face.
‘You’ve never had a problem with women! They’re like bees round honey.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong Lukie. As you kindly pointed out the other week, they’re the wrong kind of women. I might be able to attract them but keeping anything going long term…I envy what you and Beth have, to be honest,’ said Jack quietly, looking Luke directly in the eyes.
‘But we hardly ever seem to have sex anymore,’ said Luke sadly.
‘Ah, now relationships are not my forte, but sex? That I can advise on,’ said Jack with a lopsided smile. I reckon Meg’s suggestions are a good starting point, but personally I think her plan is way too tame at the moment. Taking Beth to a nice hotel and buying some sex toys is not going to set the world alight. You need to put some proper effort into it and go for maximum impact.’
‘Well, I guess Meg’s about as experienced as me on these matters. She’s had even fewer partners than I have.’
‘Really?’ asked Jack, carefully logging that nugget of information. ‘Well, sex is basically very easy. You just need to remember a few simple words,’ he said, pausing dramatically for effect.
‘Respect, honesty… humour?’ suggested Luke.
‘Viagra, Viagra, Viagra,’ said Jack, roaring with laughter.
‘Silly git!’ chortled Luke. ‘I thought you were actually going to help me then.’ Jack looked fondly across at him and exhaled slowly.
‘Because you’re my brother, and only because you’re my brother, I will. Really great sex needs four key ingredients.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Luke, clearly not convinced Jack was being serious. ‘Go on. I’ll bite. What are they?’
‘Biting could help,’ joked Jack. ‘But my original suggestions were going to be creativity, technique, confidence and possibly most important of all, mischievousness.’
‘Mischievousness?’ queried Luke with a raised eyebrow.
‘Yeah. You’ve got to push her boundaries. No actually, on second thoughts, blow her boundaries out of the water! Tease her until she screams. Make her beg with longing for you.’
‘How the fuck am I supposed to do that?’ asked a perplexed looking Luke.
‘Don’t look so worried, mate. It’ll be a lot of fun for both of you,’ grinned Jack. ‘Let me
Meg considered herself lucky to live within the vicinity of a creative writing rural retreat which regularly ran short residential courses. As well as attending interesting lectures by experienced authors, she was able to meet up with other students and exchange ideas, which she found equally valuable. Meg was signed up to attend a number of short courses during the summer. Part of the allure, she wasn’t afraid to admit, was the overnight accommodation package. Each student was provided with their own private cottage and these were scattered throughout the large estate. The facilities included a swimming pool, sauna, a nearby private beach and a fantastic, all-inclusive restaurant.
Arriving at lunchtime, Meg made her way happily to the little cottage assigned to her. It comprised of a master bedroom en-suite, a large lounge-diner and a small kitchenette. Once she had settled in, Meg strolled through the beautiful gardens to the main building, in order to attend an afternoon lecture and workshop led by Scott Martin. Scott was a successful novelist and definitely Meg’s favourite lecturer at the retreat. Recognising a number of previous attendees, Meg spent a happy afternoon alongside them, debating plot and characterisation. Briefly returning to her cottage to freshen up, she then met back up with the group to share a delicious meal, accompanied by a couple of glasses of wine. When dusk had fallen and the party were replete, Meg meandered happily back to her cottage, quickly sinking contentedly into an exquisitely comfortable king-sized bed.
Hours later, Meg was woken from her deep slumber. From a faraway place, she inhaled, slow and deep, gradually regaining her senses. The room was pitch black and it felt like the middle of the night. How incredibly annoying to wake at such an inconvenient time, especially when she’d been having such a pleasant dream up to that point. The dream floated away from her grasp, like sand running through her fingers, but memories of a tall, chiselled, alarmingly sexy gardener remained with her. Sleepily rotating her shoulder, Meg started to roll over when she realised she couldn’t reposition her right arm. In fact, she couldn’t reposition her left arm either…or her legs! Struggling, her heart rate suddenly shot through the roof. Adrenalin cascaded through her body and her predicament was realised; she was lying face down on the bed, spread-eagled, with her wrists and ankles bound to each of the four bed posts. Inhaling swiftly, in preparation to bellow for help, a hand suddenly appeared from out of the darkness and covered her mouth.
‘If you try and scream for help, I will gag you. If you keep quiet, you can stay as you are. Know that I am not going to hurt you.’ As the hand was removed, Meg noted his voice was deep, strong and confident, with the hint of a Scottish accent.
‘Let me go. Please,’ she begged.
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that.’
‘What do you want from me?’
‘That is exactly the question I will be asking of you later. Right now, I’m going to tie a blindfold over your eyes so I can turn the light on.’
‘No, please. Please let me go,’ begged Meg hopelessly as silk material was fastened securely around her head.
‘I’m sorry but I can’t do that,’ he repeated. ‘And very shortly, I give you my word that you won’t want me to.’ Meg heard the click of the bedside lamp but, thanks to the blindfold, saw only darkness.
‘What do you want?’ The words fell out of her mouth in a garbled flurry.
‘I’m only here for one purpose, Megan. Your pleasure,’ he murmured.
‘You’re a rapist?’ mumbled a terrified Meg into her pillow.
‘Of course I’m not!’ spoke the deep voice. Even in Meg’s frightened state, she recognised the tone of mild outrage and it made her feel slightly calmer.
‘Who are you then?’
‘Why don’t you call me Sam?’
Meg lay there in disbelief. This could not be happening. The blindfold had heightened her other senses and she was very aware of the man walking about the room, shifting items around. She pulled down on her restraints but to no avail. Her mind was churning through the list of men on her writing course, and coming up with a blank. Nobody had a voice this deep and none of them were Scottish. Her frenzied, chaotic thoughts were rudely interrupted as he began to speak once more.
‘You must have worked out what’s going to happen next? You’ve lived this scene a thousand times in your head. Now it’s going to happen for real.’
‘No,’ she moaned. ‘Please stop.’ Meg’s brain felt foggy and slow. How had he worked out who she was? She had never told anyone her pen name; never shared her secret. And which scene was he referring to? Or perhaps it was better not to know what was coming next. Behind her, Meg could hear the sound of scissors as the intruder cut through both straps of her silk black camisole, and then straight down the length of the material, leaving her naked, accessible and fully exposed to whatever he had planned. With a loud gasp, Meg knew she was completely vulnerable.
‘You’re afraid,’ said the stranger’s voice softly.
‘Of course I am!’
‘What are you afraid of?’
‘That you’ll hurt me. That you’ll do something I don’t want,’ she admitted, in little more than a whimper.
‘I promise I have no intention of doing either of those things.’ Meg felt the bed drop a little as the man sat down beside her.
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he said. ‘Give me ten minutes. During that time, I won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with. After ten minutes, if you want me to leave, then I’ll walk away.’
‘Okay,’ replied Meg apprehensively.
‘I haven’t quite finished yet,’ said the man, a smile evident in his voice. ‘If, after ten minutes, you want me to continue, I will. The price of me continuing is that you submit to something I ask for, if we ever meet again in the future.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Meg quickly. ‘I won’t want you to continue.’ He chuckled.
‘Be very careful. You’re dealing with an unknown quantity right now. You have no idea what I’m capable of, but you will shortly.’
‘I’m sure you’re…’
‘Shhh. In an hour’s time, when you are begging me to help you come, we can revisit this conversation.’ Meg was shocked into silence by his words and the assured confidence and certainty with which he spoke them. She felt movement on the bed and heard some tapping.
‘Right, I’ve set the timer on my phone for ten minutes. So, let’s begin.’
Through the darkness, Meg could feel drops of warm oil cascading across her spine, between her buttocks and down the back of each leg. At first, he gently stroked his palms across her body, smoothing the oil into her skin. His touch was warm, gentle and soft and Meg was soon breathing deep and slow, even in the face of her predicament. Picking up on her relaxation, he gradually ramped up the pressure, commencing what would become a mind-blowing massage. Strong fingers were working relentlessly into her tense neck and shoulder muscles, forcing them into submission, making her relax, despite the circumstances in which she found herself. As Meg lay there, inhaling deeply, he leant across her and she caught a subtle scent of him; clean, tangy, expensive.
Having massaged the deep tissue of Meg’s shoulders, his hands slid down the outside of her rib cage, stroking the side of her breasts. Her increased rate of breathing was undeniable. Taking full advantage, his right hand slid further round her breast, creeping beneath her body to locate a taut nipple. Meg moaned involuntarily, as he gently rolled the sensitive nub between his oily thumb and forefinger. Despite her fear, she could feel how swollen and wet she’d already become. She felt strangely powerless to prevent the reaction this man was forcing from her body and was embarrassed by her own sense of disappointment, when his attention drifted elsewhere.
Returning both hands to Meg’s slender back, he moved slowly down her torso, eventually rotating across her buttocks. And then she was hit by a realisation. This was what it felt like to be restrained, to have all your options removed and be completely in the hands of another person. Meg was just trying to decide whether it was frightening or surprisingly empowering when from a faraway place, she heard the quiet sound of gentle music playing.
‘That’s your ten minutes, Megan,’ he said smoothly. ‘What’s your decision?’
In a relaxed daze, Meg slowly became capable of rational thought once more. Should she ask him to stop or to continue? In all honesty, she was torn. Of course, her mind knew the sensible thing to do would be to get this stranger out of her room and make herself safe as soon as physically possible. But her body was desperate for the continuation of this man’s amazing touch. Whilst she lay there, his hands ceased moving, with the exception of the ball of one thumb, which he continued to gently grind into the deep muscle of her right buttock.
‘I think I want you to continue,’ Meg said, the truth of the statement surprising even herself.
‘Are you sure?’ he queried. ‘Don’t forget that me continuing has certain conditions attached. And the price of each additional ten minutes, is your agreement to submit to me for something I request in the future.’
‘I’m sure,’ she said shakily.
‘Very well, if you’re sure,’ he replied. ‘I’ll re-set the clock for another ten minutes.’
Commencing with a deep massage of her buttocks, Meg returned almost instantly into a transcendental state. Gradually, his hands moved down her body, slippery fingers snagging on the very edge of her over-sensitive lips, as he massaged her inner thighs. Meg gasped loudly in response. She didn’t want him to stop but realised that she couldn’t prevent him, even if she wanted to, thanks to her restrained ankles spread wide at each corner of the huge bed. She could almost envisage the satisfied smirk on the face of her antagonist and vowed to stop this when the ten-minute alarm next rang.
Trailing the backs of his fingers slowly down the inside of her left leg, Meg grew more and more turned on. When his slippery, confident fingers finally reached the underside of her foot, Meg groaned from the pleasure that pulsed through her body. As he ran the pad of one soft, oily finger gently across the base, from her heel up to her toes, Meg could feel a corresponding twinge in her swollen pussy lips. Twitching with desire, she wriggled her body, becoming aware of the extent of her arousal as she did so. What a sight this stranger must be enjoying, as liquid pooled onto the sheet below her.
Gradually, his hands migrated back up to her inner thigh, fingers moving so quickly that her overstimulated body could barely keep track of the sensations.
‘Don’t stop!’ she begged, hearing the alarm play for a second time.
‘Same terms?’ he murmured sexily, his hands never leaving her body.
‘Yes!’ she moaned noisily, as an oily finger skimmed across her outer lips and then retreated.
Meg felt an overwhelmingly desperate desire to orgasm, not least because she hadn’t been intimate with a man for so long that her level of sexual frustration was at an almost unbearable peak. She was hopeful that in the next ten minutes, he would surely drive her to orgasm. But it soon became clear that he had different ideas. The focus of his massage moved solely to her inner thigh and buttock area, but he failed to provide the relief Meg so desperately needed. Occasionally, a stray finger would glide lazily across her swollen lips or accidentally graze her sensitive perineum causing a gasp of shock. However, he seemed intent on sticking to his word; he was going to make Meg beg for her orgasm.
‘Has time become your friend, or your enemy?’ Meg heard him murmur between her desperate gasps. The incessant teasing was relentless and with each touch, Meg’s moans became louder. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take and somewhere at the back of her mind, she realised that she now understood what it was like to be restrained in bed; to hand over complete control to another person. And for that person to decide how, when and if the intense desire he was forcing her to feel would ever be allowed to culminate in the ultimate, explosive release.
The man seemed to be revelling in her slow torture now, graduating to allowing one finger to very lightly slide along the astonishingly slippery mess between her legs.
‘Please,’ begged Meg, clenching her hands into fists.
‘What are you pleading for?’ he murmured and she could hear the smile through his voice. ‘You want me to stop?’
‘Answer me,’ he ordered, sliding two fingers down either side of her wet, throbbing clit, gently squeezing and then releasing. Crying out in despair, Meg’s internal muscles contracted hard at the unexpected but delicious contact. And yet, no sooner had she begun to enjoy the sensation, his fingers disappeared elsewhere again.
‘No,’ sobbed Meg. ‘I don’t want you to stop. I desperately want to come.’
‘Did you let that poor girl in your story come?’
‘I’m sure I did.’
‘You’re right, you did. But she was tormented mercilessly first, wasn’t she? Besides, your ten minutes is up again.’
With that, he removed his hands from Meg’s skin and covered her body with a bed sheet.
‘You let her calm right back down again, before the slow torture started all over again.’
‘No, please,’ Meg implored, pulling against her restraints. God, she wasn’t even in a position to be able to make herself come, not that she’d ever had any success in that department. Meg’s arousal had always relied heavily on being in the hands of another person and not knowing what would happen next. ‘You can’t leave me like this.’
‘You know, I actually agree with you,’ he replied. ‘It would definitely be beneficial to keep you on the boil. Maybe you should amend your story accordingly, once you’re back home.’ And with that, his hands moved beneath her hips and settled something adjacent to her clit. Meg twisted and jerked about but to no avail. Whatever it was, she couldn’t shift it.
‘I’ve noticed your stories don’t include any of the remote-control sex toys available on the market. Some of them, like this one for instance…’ he explained. ‘Well, you can hook them up to your mobile phone and then just text a series of instructions through. I could be anywhere and able to give you pleasure. For example…’
There was a short delay, whilst Meg was aware of some tapping taking place on a nearby touch-phone. Her body tensed, knowing what to expect, but not knowing when it would happen. And then the low, gentle rumble of clitoral vibrations started. Meg’s first thought was relief that she would at last be allowed to come. However, the pulse had purposefully been set at a low frequency. It ensured that she felt unendurably turned on but unable to orgasm without further stimulation.
‘This is unbearable!’ shouted Meg. ‘Please don’t do this to me.’
‘I’m going to leave you to relax for a while. I’ll be back in a bit.’
‘Noooo!’ complained Meg. ‘You can’t leave me like this.’
‘Yeah,’ she admitted, shamefully. ‘Horny as hell.’
‘I can leave if you wish. Or would you like another ten minutes on the clock?’ He chuckled before Meg had chance to respond.
‘Don’t worry, I already know the answer to that. Same terms. And I’m not going far. Just got a few texts to send.’ Meg heard footsteps, followed by the door of the bedroom closing, followed by silence.
Blindfolded and restrained at the ankles and wrists, Meg lay helpless, unable to escape her predicament. The vibration settings would regularly change to ensure she was held in a perfectly balanced state of tension. The vibrations stopped altogether at one point and Meg relaxed, thinking her ordeal might be over. But a moment later, they had returned, ramping up and up until she was sure she would reach a climax. Predictably, that joyous moment was not allowed to happen, as the vibrations dropped right back down to an infuriatingly low level and the cycle commenced again.
By the time she heard the door open and he eventually returned, Meg was at the end of her tether. The teasing ceased and she was intensely aware of how her exhausted body was desperate for a form of relief that only this man could provide.
‘I’m back,’ he announced jauntily. ‘I hope, for future reference, you’ve learnt not to make those poor women in your stories wait so long for orgasm though. Most people would consider that fairly unsporting, although I have to say, I’m not one of them.’ Unable to form a coherent sentence, Meg simply growled in response. Exhausted, she lay lethargically on the bed whilst a cold finger was stroked between her legs, causing her to gasp. He then removed her ankle and wrist restraints and placed his strong hands between her shoulder blades, guaranteeing she remained in position.
‘Stay as you are. Your blindfold must remain on until I’ve left,’ he instructed.
‘Why? I want to see you.’
‘Do you really?’ he asked, the tips of his fingers slowly moving down either side of her spine. When his hands reached the cleft of her bottom, they separated, running along the inside of each buttock. ‘Isn’t that part of the thrill, Megan. The not knowing?’ he asked, as he reached her swollen pussy lips.
The cold finger must have distributed some kind of sensitivity gel, because suddenly even the smallest touch sent Meg sky high.
‘Now,’ he said in a business-like manner. ‘What do you want from me? Tell me what you need?’
‘To come,’ groaned Meg. ‘I desperately need to come.’
‘Any specific requests for exactly how you’d like that to happen?’ he asked cheekily and she could hear the smile transfer through to his voice once more.
‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ve got a feeling you don’t need any instructions.’
‘That’s true,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m pretty confident I know what I’m doing. And our conversation earlier? Do you remember what I said?’
‘That I’d be begging you to help me to come,’ whispered Meg shyly.
‘Mmmm, that’s right. The strange thing is, I don’t hear a whole lot of begging.’
‘Please, please, please. I desperately need you to help me come. Please.’
‘On this occasion, and going against my normal M.O. incidentally, I will show you mercy,’ he stated. ‘But only because you asked so very nicely. Choose a number between one and five.’
‘Playing it safe, huh?’ he teased. ‘Going for the middle of the road?’
‘One,’ he said, gently hooking his thumb against Meg’s clit and causing her hips to jump off the bed. ‘Two,’ he continued, placing his index finger against her sensitive, wet opening. ‘Three,’ he finished, placing his middle finger to join it. ‘I think I can work with that.’
‘What on earth would you have done if I’d said five?’ she asked, with obvious shock.
‘Would you like to change your answer and find out?’ he grinned.
‘No,’ said Meg quickly.
‘Go on! I promise it’ll be fun.’
‘Spoilsport. Before I continue,’ he said softly. ‘If I happened to be passing your way in the future, would you like me to visit you again?’
‘Fuck, yeah,’ sighed Meg, as he gently skimmed his fingers between her wet, swollen lips.
‘Good. I’d like that too.’
‘Oh God!’ groaned Meg. Slowly, he pressed against her delicate skin and two of his long, knowing fingers descended inside. Meg had hoped that her torment would now be at an end but it quickly became clear that he wasn’t intending on showing leniency, even at this late stage. She found herself very quickly catapulted to the brink of orgasm before being held there for an unbearable length of time. Meanwhile, her torturer took pleasure from her predicament, putting exquisite pressure on her G-spot and rotating his thumb softly around the outer edges of her clit, wallowing in her cries of frustration as they filled the air.
Gradually, his gently stabbing fingers increased in tempo and Meg found herself gripping them tightly as her orgasm approached at speed. At the point of losing control, Meg took a deep breath. Her captor had clearly been aware of her impending release because at the same time, he switched his thumb for the vibrator, which he nudged gently against her clit. The sensations were more than she could handle and Meg came so strongly that she was surprised to retain consciousness. She’d had no idea that sex could be so powerful; so all consuming. Her throat was sore from crying out as she was driven relentlessly from one orgasm to the next, over and over again.
Although the gently stabbing fingers finally ceased, the vibrations kept Meg’s wave of pleasure crashing around her. At one point, she thought the door opened and closed, but was in no state to look up. The vibrations increased to a final crescendo, resulting in an orgasm stronger than she had ever known. And then silence. When Meg finally found the strength to remove her blindfold and look around the room, it was empty. She was alone.
I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter of Fictional Fantasies, which is available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited as a full length erotic romance novel. Details of all of Fenella Ashworth's published novels, including freebies, can be found at www.fenellaashworth.com.