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#Flame a #WeekendWriter Contribution

April 24, 2011

This post is my first ever attempt at joining Aisling Weavers (@AislingWeaver) Weekend Writer challenge. Content is decided on the roll of these 9 dice > http://ht.ly/4DOAJ.
The story >

Flame.

For months I waited, patiently biding my time until the call came. When it did come it was short, explicit and left no room for doubt as to your intent. “Come over at Ten, wear your coat and your boots, and nothing else.” You were so sure that I would comply that you didn’t even wait for an answer, you just hung up. That is one of the things that bugs me about you, about us and our pact. When the demands of work and social events allow, you call, we meet, we fuck and writhe away our frustrations, then we part again. Until the next time. You always decide when this will be. 

The couple in the car next to me at the traffic lights regard me with ambivalence. Even though I know that they can’t see my nakedness beneath my raincoat, I self-consciously pull at the lapels, closing the gap over my cleavage.

You always seem to know just when to summon me, just as I am starting to entertain the idea that the call might never come again. When I am starting to think that it is all over, and I dare to surrender to the heartbreak and grief that this notion causes me.  You are eminently conscious of what you are doing, and how your actions affect me. As always, when summoned I am the idiot moth, enchanted and drawn to your white-hot, dangerous flame.

I am ashamedly aware that you have conditioned me, like one of F.B.Skinners rats. I am driving toward you now as if on auto pilot, in a state of high stress and arousal. Occasionally I stop for another red light, or pedestrian, but it doesn’t really register. On arrival, I barely acknowledge the valet who swaps my keys for a ticket, and wishes me a pleasant evening. All I notice is the slippery wetness at the top of my thighs.

I have almost reached the end of the maze, and if I perform to your satisfaction I will get my just rewards. I ascend in the elevator to your penthouse, a long-awaited visit to my prince at the top of his high tower. The thought occurs to me, with a wry smile,  that we would be more suited to the dungeons.  I am impatient and jittery, like a deprived addict. When the doors slide open I exhale with relief, and realise I have been holding my breath.

You are leaning against the bar, pouring our drinks, you glance briefly up at me, the slightest of acknowledgements. “Stop where you are” you say, softly, offhandedly commanding my compliance. I am surprised to see that the small dining table is arranged with plates, candles, and a small centrepiece of flowers. The usual trappings of a romantic dinner. It’s not like you to stall on the action.You walk to me, and quickly unbuckle the belt of my raincoat. I stare at your chest unable to look you in the eye. You pop open the buttons one by one, then slip the coat off my shoulders letting it fall to the floor. You pull me into you, your mouth pressed over mine. Our tongues find each other, gently tasting . I feel your hard chest, thighs and cock pressed against me through your suit.  It feels like coming home.  

You seat me at the table and dim the lights a little, I am naked except for my knee-high boots. You ring a small bell. Summoning someone else? My face flushes hot with embarrassment as a tall slender waitress brings dishes full of food and arranges them on the table between us. She doesn’t bat an eyelid and is seemingly unperturbed by my naked state. “Lean back in your seat, show yourself” you say, noticing how I tilt toward the table in a futile attempt to cover myself a little. My brow furrows with a frown, this is not at all what I expected from this evening. “Oh come now Lucy, don’t you like this game? I thought I could count on you to play nicely. Perhaps I was wrong.” With my heart racing, under your steady, direct gaze, I settle back into the seat.

You produce a small cane  from under the table and bring it down with a short, sharp whip on my thigh “Open your legs!” you bark. “Come now, don’t be shy. Siobhan wants to look at you!” The waitress gives me a soft encouraging smile, I slowly part my legs, my hands resting on the edge of the table. “The blindfold, please, Siobhan.” you say quietly, moving your seat next to mine. I feel a small quiver of pleasure start in my stomach. The waitress ties a soft leather blindfold over my eyes, then kneels between my legs, planting a small kiss on my stomach. I feel a familiar throb in my clit as my excitement grows. “Open wide” you say, Your left hand pulls my thigh towards you, as your right hand feeds me a forkfuls of food. I feel Siobhan’s mouth close  over me, she gently sucks at my cunt as her tongue snakes over my clit with expert precision. Very soon I am panting and writhing against her face, my fingers tangled in her hair..

Your fingers gently pull and  twist at my nipples making them stand to attention. You encourage us with small comments, and noises of appreciation. You lift the cane and start to tap it on them, they are now achingly hard. You steadily increase the force of the blows with the growing intensity evident in my excitement.  Before long, the skin of my breasts is red, hot and burning from the blows. I hear you stand and unzip your fly, and the sound of the cloth as you release your cock from your pants. You turn my face towards you and trace the outline of my lips with the tip of your cock, leaving a trace of pre-come around them. You lift a candle from the table and drip the hot wax on to my stinging nipples as you push into my mouth. I cry out, my mind confused and divided by the delicate balance of pleasure and pain.

In my mind’s eye I see what you see. Siobhan greedily eating my pussy, her hands stifling the movement of my hips as I thrust myself against her mouth. I imagine you there your cock hard, and seeping with pre-come, slowly pushing in and out of my soft lips. With every breath and every sensation I inch closer to orgasm. Soon you withdraw from my mouth. “That will be all, thank you Siobhan” I hear you say. I am frustratingly close to coming and your interruption confuses and annoys me. Anger rises in my breast, though I can say nothing except, “What?”. I am incredulous.  I hear her counting her money as you escort her toward the door and thank her for her services.

“She was a fucking hooker?” I ask, the seething anger evident in my tone. You laugh at my obvious frustration “Well where else was I supposed to find a girl who would perform like that at such short notice?” your amusement is obvious. “You son of a bitch!” I spit, venting my pent-up frustration. “Well, it’s not like I have sluts on tap here you know. Although looking at you  right now…” You leave the sentence hanging in the air and although I bristle with ire, I feel a stir of lascivious sensation. I am sitting here wearing nothing but boots and a blindfold, having just been eaten out by a random waitress. What argument could I possibly make now against that statement, that would hold any water? “Oh, I know Lucy, you wanted more, didn’t you? You wanted to have your cock and get eaten! Tut tut tut, you dirty little slut!”

You push your fingers into my hair, grab a handful and pull. You tilt my head back and kiss me hard. I twist my face away from yours, the motion breaking the skin on my lip. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “Aww sweetie, have I pissed you off?” your voice is ragged with lust, excitement spirals along my spine. Seeing me bleeding seems to further stir your ardour. “Excellent” you whisper, and press your mouth against mine again harder this time, your tongue tasting my blood. You kneel in front of me, forcing my thighs apart with your hips. Your strong, lithe frame easily causes me to yield. I try to stand and back away from the contact, but you knock the chair away and tackle me to the floor. “Yes!” you laugh “That’s it!, fucking fight me!, make me stop!”  

We wrestle a little, your strength far exceeding my own. You pin my hands to the floor above my head and force your cock inside me. Though I tighten myself against your penetration, the motion is greased by the slick wetness left behind by Siobhan’s hungry tongue. My futile attempts serve only to grip your cock as you slide into me. A low growl emits from you and my skin tingles from head to toe as I feel your weight press down on me and my cunt fill with you. “Is that the best you can do?”  You ask, mocking me. You bite the soft flesh on my shoulder and I yelp as I feel your teeth puncture my skin and your cock slam deep into me. 

“Bastard” I shout. Gripping you with my thighs I flip us over, now I am above you. I sit upright, my weight pushes your cock even deeper inside me. Hilting you there and gripping you, I raise my hand. “That’s better!” You grin. A back-handed slap stings your cheek, I grip a fistful of your hair and pull your face up to mine.”Is this what you need? Hmm? You need a little pain?” My clit grazes against your hard abdominal muscles as I begin to rock my hips against you, I feel myself starting to come. “Now, fuck me properly!” I say, digging my fingernails into your shoulders and sliding my slippery cunt up and down your shaft. You desperately pull down on my shoulders, crying out as a fountain of come erupts into me with force enough that I feel it hit my cervix.

As the intensity subsides, we grip each other tightly, rocking and catching our breath. My gut wrenches as it occurs to me that soon we will part again and I will be back to square one. Obsessing over every detail of our last encounter, reliving it all when I am alone in my bed. I will feel both shame and elation, as I always do when I recall our time together.  In this, a theatrical dance of our own making, we ultimately find our hidden selves. But are we a comedy or a tragedy? maybe  a little of both.  My only comfort is in knowing that, at the base of all things that are ‘us’, there is common ground. I know, without doubt, that you need me as much as I need you.

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2 Comments
  1. Squeaky permalink

    Oh, Fucking outstanding!!! *stands up and applauds* My gods, that was hot!
    *cough*
    Now… if you’ll excuse me for a while… *sidles off somewhere… private*

  2. Heheheh *Ahem* *averts gaze* You go right ahead there Toni, I promise I won’t look…..*sneaks a peek* 😉

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