Saturday, September 17, 2011

Travelogue, Chapter 3, Part 2

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The sound of footsteps and a woman’s laugh woke Penny from her reverie. The door burst open. A girl stumbled backwards wrapped around Marco’s tall frame, immersed in a kiss. She regained her balance and released Marco. “Ooh, a real bed this time! That’s a treat!” She was blond and cheerful. Her womanly shape made Penny conscious of her small breasts and hips.

“I never get to see you naked, you’re always pulling your skirts up in alleys,” teased Marco. He shot a grin at Penny, then started laughingly pulling at the girl’s clothes.

“Marco, stop!” the girl protested. “I’ll do it myself!” She never even glanced in Penny’s direction. Maybe she did this kind of thing all the time.

“C’mon, Angel,” Marco said, “We haven’t got all night.” He held her waist, looking down at her with an knowing grin.

“I’ve got four hours before my shift, Marco. Not even you can go that long.” Angel’s voice was breathy. The subtleties of her British accent were lost on Penny. Not American, that’s all. And incredibly sexy.

“It’s not about how long I can go. It’s about how long you can go, beautiful.” Marco had his hands on Angel’s ass and his body pressed her backwards, toward the bed. “Don’t you remember our plan?”

“Mmmm,” Angel answered, leaning back in his arms and pulling off her shirt. “That’s tonight?” Penny was surprised by the rather plain looking bra the girl wore, but that quickly came off, too.

“Absolutely. You are going to have the most orgasmic night of your life.” Marco turned his mouth into Angel’s hair and his voice was muffled. “We’re going to show our little mmphbl what she’s missing.”

The two toppled onto the bed, mouths hungrily engaged. Marco stripped off his shirt. His body was just as gorgeous as his face, all lean muscles and golden skin. Penny found herself sitting forward in her seat, arms pulling against the bands. She was rapt, watching their limbs tangle, listening to their sighs and the watery sounds of their kisses. Her breath felt constricted by arousal. Marco pinned Angel and smiled again at Penny. “Ready for your lesson, Angel?”

Angel grinned and closed her eyes. “Oh yes. I am.”

“Off with your panties, then, and turn this way, so our Penny has a good view.” Marco pulled the girl sideways so she lay face up, her feet facing Penny. “Spread your legs,” said Marco. Penny had a perfect view of pink, glistening labia, a few tendrils of damp hair curling around it. Angel’s pubic hair was neatly trimmed and just as blond as the hair on her head. Penny had never had license to really look at another woman’s pussy in real life. She gazed with interest, as Marco’s fingers strayed lightly over Angel’s outer lips and the small peak of her clitoral hood. A line of wetness grew as he grazed her skin.

Marco sat to one side of Angel, his back turned to Penny, his focus all on Angel now. He began to murmur to Angel in a tone Penny recognized, a soft, steady, enchanting monotone. “That feels good, doesn’t it.” (No questions, Penny recalled. He’s telling her what to feel.) “You’re getting excited already.”

Marco held two fingers together and slowly brushed them up and down her labia and over her clit, spreading a thin, glossy, film. “Yes, your little button is coming out. You’re feeling very aroused.” Penny felt herself responding, too. Her pussy was damp. She rocked her hips forward, wishing she had a way to rub herself against the seat.

Angel’s back began to arch as Marco continued his slow, steady caresses and narrative. “So excited. I barely have to touch you. Yes, that’s right, spread your legs a little more.” Penny could see his fingers were dipping into her just a little on each up-stroke and gliding more firmly over her clit. Angel’s breath was loud in the quiet room, punctuated with high gasps.

“You’re going to cum for me soon, Angel. Soon.” Marco’s fingers stopped moving. “Soon. But not yet.” He resumed tracing her slit, this time with only one finger. Penny’s clit ached. She imagined the torment of that delicate touch. Angel’s hips thrust up, but Marco kept his finger just barely in reach.

“Yes, Angel, you’re going to cum for me. When I say so. When I tell you it’s time.” His finger made slow circles around her clit. “You’re so close, aren’t you.”

“I need more,” Angel gasped out. “Please, Marco.”

“Don’t worry, Angel.” Marco continued his subtle movements. “I know what you need.” His finger slipped inside her for a moment, and Angel groaned deeply. Penny felt her pussy clench with sympathetic desire. She wondered if she’d cum when Angel did. It seemed possible.

“I’m going to count, now, Angel. From ten down to one. And when I say one, you-” Marco’s finger withdrew and quickly repenetrated her, drawing a gasp. “-are going to cum for me.” Angel’s body rocked on the bed. To Penny, Angel seemed ready to explode at any second. But then, she was not very familiar with the arousal patterns of other women. Her analytical mind snapped off again as Marco pulled his fingers away from Angel completely. What was he doing?

“Ten,” he began. His right hand was on Angel’s inner thigh. His left rested flat on her lower belly just above her mound. His head was still turned to watch Angel’s face. “Nine,” he said. The hand on her thigh moved upward, again touching her pussy delicately, indirectly. The hand on her belly began to push down more firmly. “Eight.” Angel was panting, pushing up against his restraining hand. Marco’s fingers swam over her pussy, his thumb brushing her clit, middle fingers dipping softly into her cunt. “Seven.” Angel whined and thrust. “Not yet, darling. When I tell you. Six.” Penny’s body throbbed. “Five. Four.” Marco paused and Angel pleaded, “Please!”

“Three. Almost, Angel.” He teased and carresed her with his thumb, then pushed three fingers inside her all at once. “Two.” Angel legs were impossibly spread, and she grunted and thrust. “Now, Angel. One. Cum for me.” Angel yelled and humped and writhed on Marco’s hand. Penny’s pussy spasmed and throbbed in sympathy. Marco kept on talking.

“Yes, that’s it Angel, cum hard, cum hard, that’s right.” He ran his thumb back and forth over her clit, fingers still inside her. Angel gripped the sheets and cried out over and over. At last her body stilled and Marco withdrew his fingers. He trailed a line of wetness up Angel’s stomach and cradled a breast. “Was that good, baby?”

“Yes, yes....” Angel sighed. “Amazing.”

“Good,” said Marco. “Let’s do it again.” His fingers returned to Angel’s cunt and he pushed two inside her without further preamble. Angel grunted.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me, Marco?”

“Yes, later. But first you need to learn to cum for me.” His voice was firm. Penny shivered. She wished she were on the bed.

“I just Did come for you,” Angel whined, lifting her head.

Marco started thrusting his fingers in and out of her. “You have to learn,” he said, as Angel’s head thumped back onto the bed again, “To cum when I tell you. Whenever I tell you.” Angel’s hips jerked and matched his rhythm. Marco began counting. “Ten.”

Marco counted Angel down twice more, each time drawing a more dramatic climax than the last. Penny was drenched with sweat and desire. The chair felt like a cage, cutting into her everywhere as she strained to respond to Marco’s relentless commands along with Angel. Yes, this was a punishment, and most inventively cruel.

After Angel’s third climax she pulled Marco towards her for a kiss. “I need a break, baby,” Penny heard. Marco cupped her breast and squeezed a nipple. Penny could see Angel’s shiver.

“Do you?” Marco answered. “Get up on on your knees. No, turn this way.” He steered Angel onto all fours so that Penny had a side view of her body. He smoothed his hands over Angel’s ass. Penny’s ass tingled. Was he going to spank her? But no. He was speaking in his hypnotic voice again.

“Look at you, dripping down your legs. So turned on you groan whenever I touch you.” He squeezed Angel’s ass firmly and she let out a moan on cue. “You don’t even need me to touch you to have an orgasm, do you.” Angel moaned again in a kind of protest as he removed his hands. She shifted her hips back towards him to reclaim his touch, but he moved away, shifting up the bed to sit near her head. He leaned close to her ear, speaking in a soft tone Penny strained to hear. “You are going to cum for me again, Angel. Just like last time. Just like you’ve been doing over and over again. When I count down to one, you’re going to have another orgasm.”

“I can’t,” Angel whined, but her hips shifted forward in back in the air in helpless arousal.

“You will, Angel. Your body’s already preparing. You’re getting wetter. Your nipples are so swollen a breath of air makes them ache.” He waved a hand under her chest, not touching her. She strained downward, too late. “Now then. Ten.” There was no doubt in Penny’s mind that Angel would cum. She longed for her own orgasm, but her arousal hovered just shy of that desperate abandon.

Marco’s countdown continued. At five, Angel raised a hand to touch her pussy. Marco grabbed her wrist. “You don’t need that, Angel.” He placed her hand back in its position on the bed. Angel’s back and hips thrust against air as he resumed. “Four. You can almost feel my tongue on your clit, can’t you. Three. I’m going to fuck you in just a minute, Angel. I’m going to fuck you, but first you are going to cum for me. Two.” Angel’s body glistened with sweat. Penny could smell her cunt. “That’s it,” said Marco softly. “You want me to say it, don’t you.”

“Say it!” Angel gasped out.

“Yes, darling. You’re going to explode for me. Any second now.”

There was the slightest pause. Penny saw Angel trembling. And then: “One.” Angel’s back arched high and then low, as if demonstrating a frenetic yoga pose. She cried out rhythmically, “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!” Marco was behind her, penis erect and covered in a condom. He plunged into her. She threw her head back, eyes closed, mouth opened wide. Penny felt her pussy spasm again, not in a full orgasm but in sympathetic excitement.

With Marco’s second thrust, he began counting down again. Angel was still bucking from the last orgasm as he got to seven. By five she was calming. At three, she was near again to the peak. Marco’s grip on Angel’s hips was firm. He thrust into her steadily even as she struggled for the wilder tempo of her orgasm. From one he began at five again. Angel swore and yelled and came. Five. Four. Penny watched as Marco pushed Angel over one peak after another. Three. Two. Penny lost count. Angel collapsed onto the bed and rolled onto her back. Marco knelt over her, cock in his hand, beginning again. “No more,” Angel muttered, “No more.” One, said Marco, and with a sobbing cry, Angel arched her back again.

Marco lay down beside Angel. He rubbed her belly as she regained her breath. “Very good,” he said. “You’re a quick learner, Angel.” She smiled at him. Penny took in a breath, and realized she’d been gasping along with Angel. Marco and Angel murmured softly on the bed. Penny came back to herself. Her pussy felt painfully engorged. Her wrists and ankles felt raw where she’d pulled against her ropes. Her mouth was dry and foul tasting.

Marco’s voice was inaudible, but Penny could hear that he was talking into Angel’s ear. Angel nodded. He cupped her breast in his hand and captured her nipple between thumb and forefinger, pulling gently. Angel smiled, and nuzzled her head against him. For a moment, all Penny could feel was loneliness, a stronger and deeper ache than any of her physical complaints. The Marco lifted his head to look at her. The touch of his eyes was startling. She’d almost forgotten they could see her. For the first time since dinner, Marco addressed her directly. “Penny. This time, you count.”

It took a moment for her to understand what he was saying. She counted? She mattered? No, no, it fell into place. She was counting down for Angel. An almost giddy feeling came over her. Her voice came out higher than she’d meant. “Ten.”

Angel was very, very tired. That was obvious, from the loll of her head to the splay of her limbs. Penny watched with fascination as each number seemed to pull Angel’s body back towards alertness and tension. At eight, Angel smiled the chin lifting smile of a person feeling great pleasure. At six, Angel rolled towards her, eyes closed but attention focused. Penny hesitated at four. Was it to soon? Marco nodded at her, and she continued. Her body echoed Angel’s rising tension. Count slower, her arousal told her. But she continued on. “Three.” Her voice trembled. Angel had spread her legs wide. “Two.” Penny wished she could touch Angel. She wanted to be a man and thrust inside her. She wanted, deliriously, to feel Angel’s cunt contracting around her as she gave the final trigger: “One.”

Angel got dressed without any further reference to Penny. Penny watched exhaustedly as Marco escorted Angel from the room and shut the door. It seemed clear to Penny that her ordeal was over, but she was too drained to wonder when she would be released.

The wait was not long. Marco reentered and knelt to untie her. “Are you alright?” he asked, as he helped her to rise. She was unsteady.

“That was...” Penny trailed off, unable to think of the right word.

“I know,” said Marco. He touched a hand to her cheek, brushing back a stray hair. “Mr. Craness wants you to come to the living room and say goodnight.” He took her hand, and tugged her towards the door. She followed, her naked skin raising goose-bumps as the cooler air of the hallway touched her.

In two steps they were in the living room, and there was a crowd of people filling the sofa and chairs. It was blindingly bright after the dim bedroom. Penny tried to take a step back, but Marco was behind her. “Penny,” she heard Mr. Craness’s voice and squinted, trying to find him. There he was, across the room, Angel sitting on his lap. Everyone was well dressed. Mr. Craness motioned her to come.

It was almost physically painful to walk naked under the sharp lights and the inscrutable gazes of the guests. Mr. Craness put his free arm around her - the one that was not already holding Angel steady on his knee-- and raised his voice. “Everyone, this is my Penny.” There was a murmur of smiles and greetings. Angel got up, kissing first Mr. Craness and then Penny on the cheek. Mr. Craness rose, too. “Penny, you look like you need to go to bed. I’ll come and tuck you in in a moment.” He gave her a little push towards the doorway, and Penny gratefully hurried from the room.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Travelogue, Chapter 3, Part 1

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Penny heard the door shut and the jingle of keys. They’d gone out. She was alone. It was very quiet. She looked around the room, but there was little to see. A few unornamented pieces of furniture. A simple lamp, glowing yellow.

Practice her posture. Her lower back already ached a little from the strain of sitting up straight. She let her head hang forward, stretching tight muscles in her neck and down her spine. Mr. Craness and Marco would surely be out for an hour or two. Penny considered her next move. She could slump. She could undo herself and wander the apartment, even go out. It was possible, if she were careful, that she could slip back into her bonds before he returned, leaving him none the wiser. 

Nonetheless, she sat. She pondered his reasoning. He had left her loosely bound for safety, surely. In case of a fire, she could easily escape. But safety could have been ensured another way. They didn’t have to go out for drinks. Was he testing her? Had they really gone out? No, she’d definitely heard their footsteps on the stairs. And Mr. Craness was not a man of pretense. 

She thought about the history of their acquaintance. His method of teaching had always been gently Socratic. He had allowed her to lead herself to answers. Today was the first time he’d ever imposed a rule on her: Respect. Was that why he hadn’t tied her? He’d wanted her to have to choose to respect his wishes. Not just once, sitting down and allowing herself to be tied, but minute by minute as her discomfort grew. 

Her legs hurt. The edge of the chair was gently curved downwards. The edge fell just at the top of her calves and it felt like it was cutting into her. She adjusted her ankles as much as she could. The air was cooling and she wished for a blanket. To distract herself, she tried to recall the progress of her friendship with Mr. Craness. How had she come to be here, naked, anxious, and alone? 


Penny had first known Mr. Craness through his blog. She couldn’t recall how she’d stumbled across it. 

He’d started keeping it after the death of his wife. His brief biography explained he wanted to both mourn and celebrate their marriage. Writing, he’d said, recalled her vividly to his mind. As a reader, Penny found his stories equally vivid. Most of his recollections were erotic. It seemed he’d found his wife unendingly alluring, and their sexual exploits were recorded with a sensual precision that held Penny riveted. 

Sometimes Mr. Craness had mused on his youth, tracing how he’d come to be the man he was. Penny read these posts with interest. She’d come to greatly admire the man who wrote merely as “Crane”. It was illuminating to learn about his early mistakes and inadequacies. Eventually, she began to comment on these posts, noting similarities to her life. Crane had responded kindly, asking his characteristic leading questions. In one such comment, he’d appended his email, should she want to talk in more depth.

That had been at least a year and a half ago. Maybe more. 

It had been a time of transition for Penny. She’d had conflicts with her family. She had a terrible break up and moved into her own apartment for the first time. In her new isolation, she felt she was discovering herself for the first time. Her emails with Crane became increasingly essential to her days. Every question they discussed led to another. He encouraged her to use her independence to explore what she wanted, rather than rushing into new commitments. He reassured her after painful conversations with her ex that she was a worthwhile human being. He made her laugh when she felt at the end of her rope. Crane was steady in a way no man in her life had ever been. 

Meanwhile, she continued reading his blog. Sometimes he’d mention her obliquely. He wrote less about his wife, as the months passed. He instead told stories of observation: imagining the sex lives of people he saw in restaurants or on the train. His writing voice was different than the tone he used with her. He wrote forcefully. His wife had submitted to punishments and demands for obedience. The people he imagined were always engaged in exploring power dynamics. His imagination was often cruel.

To Penny, he’d always been gentle and kind. As the affection between them grew, she found herself wishing, sometimes, he’d be firmer with her. Shyly, she told him as much. “You’d like me to tell you what to do?” he answered. “We can see. Start by calling me Mr. Craness.”

“That will be hard,” Penny had written. “I’ve called you Crane for a long time.”

“It will be a good exercise for you, then. Work at it. Train your thoughts.”

The phrase made her shiver. Train your thoughts. Mr. Craness’s first, simple demand worked its way into her like a thorn. He’d given her a gift: his name. And he’d taken something away: a little bit of her freedom.

Remembering that day still aroused her. She learned, that day, how subtle a thing control could be. Her admiration of Mr. Craness deepened.

So much had happened since then... Penny smiled, reviewing scenes of lovers and adventures. Mr. Craness had been her rudder, but he steered gently, gently. He wanted her to explore where her desires led her. So when she’d come up with the idea of travel, she’d been surprised by his lack of enthusiasm.

In the face of her determination to go despite his warnings, he suggested she begin her trip with a sojourn under his tutelage. What had he propsed to teach her? “I think you confuse enthusiasm with confidence,” he’d told her. “You don’t know yourself well enough to be truly confident. You’re impulsive and it will lead you into danger.” His reasoning was unclear to her, but the prospect of an intimate visit with Mr. Craness had been irresistibly alluring. And now - here she was. Shivering, naked, and wondering if maybe he'd been all too right about her trusting nature.