A Kink in Her Tails (27 page)

All Jason’s educational experiences, however, went completely out of his mind as he stepped from the darkness into what resembled some kind of sexual Olympiad.

Through mammoth loudspeakers The Doors were begging people to “C’mon Baby, Light My Fire,” the air was thick with incense, candle smoke and distinct overtones of grass, and clothing was optional.

Beads were everywhere, the long tresses of the men and women blurred into a soft haze of hair intertwined with flowers, and most everyone was fucking.

Energetically.

Francesca was unfazed. She led Jason by the hand and through the throng, even waving to one girl who was being serviced by two men at the same time. And loving it to judge by her grin.

Cries told of climaxes reached, grunts and groans of sperm being released. It was primal, heady, arousing and fascinating. Jason wished for a camera, a notebook and a quiet corner so that he and Francesca could add their moans to the soundtrack.

But she hadn’t stopped, merely tugged him onward until they reached a stairway leading down.

As they descended, the ambience shifted.

The music faded, the psychedelic fuck frenzy being relegated to the floors above.

Here, all was quiet. There was a rich carpet on the bare concrete, cushioning their steps, and a small corridor running the length of the house.

The Doors were picking up the pace of their music, but only the thump of the bass made it through to this darkened domain. Jason had a whimsical image of the interior of some great beast whose heart was pounding around them.

A blonde waif with the longest hair Jason could remember seeing outside a storybook emerged from an opening.

She held a tray in front of her with several small sugar cubes on it.

Clinically, it wasn’t hard to see that she’d been sampling her own offerings. Her pupils were incredibly dilated, her focus totally gone, and how she was standing upright, let alone offering her wares, was a source of astonishment.

She was also stark naked.

Francesca leaned over and kissed her cheek, but turned down the treat. Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

He’d never tripped on LSD and wasn’t about to start now.

“Here, Jason. In here,” she said, opening a door toward the end of the corridor.

The room was small, and pretty much empty, except for a large wooden contraption in the center of the floor. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize a St. Andrew’s Cross.

Jason gulped. He’d seen pictures of them, of course, but never actually been face-to-face with one.

Francesca quietly closed the door behind them and sealed them into their own private space. A small window allowed flickers of lightning to dance off the chrome fittings of the cross, a tall X-shaped creation made from a soft, polished wood. There were cuffs attached to the tops of the X for the wrists, and anklets at the bottom that would secure the penitent’s legs apart.

For a moment, Jason allowed himself a wry chuckle at the notion of pleasure devices emerging from the torture chambers of medieval Europe. As he so often did, he reflected on how strange the world was.

Then Francesca touched him and his thoughts ground to a halt. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, and that’s the honest truth. Would you really want me to strap you into one of these? It’s so…so…medieval.”

“Oh, and we haven’t gotten pretty medieval already?” she laughed back at him, blue eyes dancing.

“Point taken.” Jason smiled back at her, his heart warming as he watched her walk around the cross. She had become his life, his dreams, his heart. And yet he had this continuous feeling there was something that still needed to be shared. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He reached up and slid his hand down the smooth wood. “So you want me to spank you here or what?”

Francesca tipped her head back and grinned at him. “No, babe. This isn’t for me. This is for
you
.”

* * * * *

He ached. Literally. His heart, his chest, his lungs, his cock. Everything ached for Francesca.

It was as if the scotch had unlocked a dam within his mind that had started as a small trickle but become a flood of memories, both joyous and painful. He wanted her. More now than ever, because he’d lived so much of his life without her and he wanted to share.

His business had grown exponentially with his desire for privacy, and it had been ten years or so since he

’d withdrawn from public life and started writing. His financial empire was solid, his multi-million-dollar adult toy company continued to show a profit, and he wanted for nothing.

Jason crossed the room to his computer and sat down, a germ of an idea beginning to grow in his mind.

There was nothing more in the way of material things that he wanted. He’d had it all, done it all, and sold the T-shirt at a profit. He’d been convinced that the right woman was out there and had spent considerable time and a lot of money on the process of finding out who and where she was.

There had been blind dates, courtesy dates, honest and sincere dates.

And there had been fucking. Lots of fucking. Jason Burke was handsome, wealthy, and single. He could have had his choice of women any night of the week. Several of them. Together.

In fact he had. Although he’d found himself rather confused by the mechanics of several sets of legs and breasts—rather like being confronted with an entire six-course meal all at once. Where did one start?

He opened his browser and idly observed his system welcoming him personally.

There had been several women in his life who had become important to him. A couple that would have made the very best of wives. He’d come very close to finding out. Even bought a ring.

But, inevitably, it would fail. For no particular reason other than the fact that Jason’s heart wasn’t in it.

His mind and his body were set on a course that would have led to marriage, but always his heart had stopped it. He knew it was wrong.

That “something,” that spark, that shaft of desire he’d felt around Francesca was missing. And without it, there was nothing.

His fingers trembled above the keyboard as he sat poised to do something he’d never allowed himself to do. Type her name.

* * * * *

The words had popped out of his mouth as soon as Francesca had told him the St. Andrew’s Cross was for him.

“I don’t see anyone else in here.” She crossed to him and began undoing his shirt. He must have been severely stunned because he let her undress him without a murmur.

“But…but…” Oh yes. There we go. Great conversation for a Ph.D.

“Jason, what’s the problem? You’ve let me top you before?” Jason took a breath. “I know, honey. And it’s been fun, but this…” he nodded at the shackles, “this is really intense, you know?”

She had smiled and licked his nipple. “I know.”

It was that smile that was his undoing. She could smile at him and he’d move heaven and earth for her.

He noted that her hands trembled slightly as she unbuckled his belt, and was reassured. The thunder boomed in the distance, adding a very gothic note to this night, and Jason had to chuckle. “Well, we’ve certainly picked the right night to explore the dungeon world. Why do I keep expecting Dr. Frankenstein to make an appearance?”

Francesca grinned. “I can assure you he won’t. It’s just us, Jason. You and me.” She began to fasten his wrists to the cross, turning him so that the wood touched his chest. She had to stand on tiptoe to secure the buckles, but within moments he was held naked and firm, arms out to both sides and legs splayed and restrained.

Francesca moved to stand behind the cross and stared into Jason’s eyes.

Her hands went to the ties on her dress and she slowly loosened them. “Jason, this night is special. It’s for both of us, but mostly for you.”

Her loose peasant dress slid sensuously down her arms and dropped from her breasts, leaving them bare to his gaze.

One good thing about the device that held him was the complete freedom it gave his cock to expand.

And it certainly took advantage of that freedom. Especially when she moved to a small table and slipped a pile of leather straps into her hands.

She returned to her position in front of his face and shimmied her dress off her hips to the floor, leaving her naked.

“This is sort of sleazy, but fun.” She giggled, shaking the leather straps out and putting her arms through them.

It was a leather bra. Without any cups, or support, just a bunch of straps that lay across her white skin and did quite awesome things to his libido.

She followed that with a couple more straps that managed to reveal her pussy while drawing the eye downward across her belly and her groin. The outfit was completed when she laced up a pair of shiny boots. Of course, she managed to flash him a large labial display as she did so.

By the time Francesca had completed her “Kitten-with-a-Whip” look, Jason was screamingly hard. One touch, and he could swear he’d shoot his load halfway down the street.

She was not unaffected. Despite the haze of his arousal, Jason could see her pulse thumping madly at the base of her neck and her nipples, taut and beaded, framed by their leather straps.

He’d bet every dime he had that her thighs were getting slick from the juices soaking the thong that passed between them.

“Jason, you’ve given me so much,” she said, reaching for a final tool. “I have wanted to give something back to you in return, but…” she paused, shaking out her hand and letting a multitude of lengths of suede dangle down. It was a flogger.

Jason swallowed.

“You’ve become very special to me, and I have never let that happen before. I don’t know why it’s happening now. It frightens me. But my way of saying thank you is to help you experience something.

Something unique.”

Jason tried to look at her, but she’d walked behind him now, out of his line of sight.

“We both know that there’s a special place we can go to, a mind place that holds mysteries and marvels.

Where there is nothing but sensation, heat, desire, and love. The door to this place can be opened in several ways.”

He felt a brush of air pass his naked legs and heard the whoosh of the flogger as it swirled behind him.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever really been there, Jason. Ever really lost touch with who you are.” The flogger brushed the backs of his thighs and surprised a gasp from him. The mere touch had seemed like fire against his sensitized skin.

“We’ve used our toys and our safe words. We’ve played the games and the scenes. But almost always you’ve been calling the shots. The responsibility has been yours. Well, tonight, it’s mine.” She crossed in front of him and draped the flogger tails over his cock and around his balls with a little smile. “Mmm. Pretty. Look, Jason, don’t they look pretty?” Jason dropped his eyes and watched as she slithered the black suede over his distended and rapidly purpling cock. She tugged them quickly off and the slight abrasion of his skin over his rigid arousal made his balls tingle.

Then she slid them over her breasts.

His breath left his lungs in a whoosh. She let the tails fall to either side of each nipple, then slid them down further, flicking them between her legs, and moaning a little as she caressed her clit with the gentle thud of the suede.

Jason’s mouth was dry as he watched and his head spun at the erotically sexual images he was seeing.

He had a feeling they’d be burned into his memory forever.

She stalked around him again, her high heels hardening the muscles of her legs and making her look like an Amazon warrior bent on invading a nation. Hell, he was ready to surrender right this second. His hands were up, and he’d welcome the chance to be raped and pillaged, and he could even go for a bit of plundering as long as her nails were cut short.

He trembled.

“So I’ve decided to give you access to that special place, Jason, as my gift to you.” Jason opened his mouth to respond when the first blow fell.

He slumped over his keyboard and lowered his hands to his desk. He was literally shaking as he remembered that moment.

And many other moments.

He remembered her face, her touch, the smell of her hair and the little dimple in her buttock.

It seemed as though the small trickle of memories had become a raging flood, filling every square inch of his mind with images of Francesca.

All the years he’d spent pretending to himself that he’d forgotten so much about their time together were proved to be a lie. Everything was still there, buried deep in his psyche, but still there.

And now it was out.

He gasped aloud and his cock hardened as he remembered the feel of her lips. He moaned as he saw himself sinking into her cunt, and the smile on her face as she welcomed him inside her.

His chest tightened with the image of her eyes darkening as she began to orgasm around him, never breaking contact with his gaze. She stared into him as if her cunt was her soul and he was ripping it free and claiming it as his own.

He wasn’t aware of the tears falling down over his cheeks until they splashed onto his hand.

He closed his eyes and leaned back, helpless to stop this flood now that it had fully begun.

His buttocks were on fire
.

She’d begun her assault with a series of regular thudding strokes, warming his flesh and
distracting him from his need to come.

Alternating between his buttocks and his thighs, Francesca worked the flogger with skill and precision, sometimes hard, sometimes soft, but always there, always striking him.

She was putting her heart into it, Jason knew, because he could smell her, detect that particular fragrance of woman and musk that was distinctly hers as she became aroused and sweaty. He’d recognize it anywhere.

Then the sensation changed. It became harder, stinging his warmed flesh and making him flinch a little.