The Storyteller (2 page)

Her top came off and after that the bra, so she stood before the mirror, admiring her nipples which were starting to stiffen. Her breath was growing increasingly hot as well.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” she whispered to her mirror image. “Now we can do whatever we want to.”

Slowly, she fondled herself, imagining a man’s hands over her. This dream lover had no face, but only groping fingers, toying with her entire body. The imaginary stranger and his grasps were all that mattered.

Staring at her reflection, she undid her belt, following with the button and zipper to her pants. Down they came, so she stood before the image of herself wearing only a pair of dark panties.

Again she imagined her lover running his hands over her, though they were really her own. She envisioned the faceless one yanking her panties down so she was bare before him.

“I want to lick you,” she taunted herself. “Then I want to fuck you until you scream.”

Just as she did not believe in breast augmentation, she was against shaving her pubic area. The hairs of her bush were many and thick, coming in the same blondish brown tone as the hair on her head.

“Do me,” she whispered to the empty bedroom. “Do me now.”

Falling back on the bed as if thrown, her fingers went to work gouging in and out of her now open slit. She felt the dampness increasing, heard her own labored breaths and saw the faceless man on top of her as her imagination went into overdrive.

“Fuck me,” she gasped. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

In the past when she had finished such a session, she thought how trite her monologue was. How unoriginal. Like something from a bad porno movie. Yet what did it matter? These were her words. She owned them. This was her dream and her way of getting off. She could say whatever she wanted.

“Please, fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

Perhaps because in this new setting, where she had no fear of getting caught, new fantasies started to come to her as she worked her way to orgasm. In her vision, she saw the scene change. Something was very different than before. This was totally amiss.

The faceless man was there, but he was no longer on top of her, thrusting her to new heights of pleasure. Instead, she saw herself in this very same bedroom, but bent over the bed. The faceless man had a belt and was about to take it to her naked ass.

“No,” she protested. “I don’t want a whipping!”

She had never been spanked as a kid, in any way, shape, or form. She probably should have been, but her parents didn’t believe in that type of discipline. In Sex Education it was discussed, but the teacher clearly did not want to dwell upon the topic. To her, the idea likewise seemed weird. Why would someone want to feel pain instead of pleasure? Why spank when you could fuck? How could pleasure and pain ever merge as one?

In her unexpected fantasy, all bets were off. The faceless man took the belt to her and whipped her red. The first strike brought excruciating pain, but with each blow the displeasure changed into enjoyment. She was experiencing exactly what she thought was impossible.

She screamed and started to blubber like a little girl, but this was consensual, and even though she could have ended the punishment at any given moment, she chose to endure. She knew the fucking would be twice as hot once her strange disciplinarian had finished.

More strikes came and she could see her own bottom now glowing with a fiery red.

Then she orgasmed.

The shout she let out was that of a wounded animal. Her cries were profane and her emotions totally out of control.

At last, it was finished.

The punishment man was gone. She was alone, sweating and panting on the bed, looking up at the ceiling and feeling totally exhausted.

This was what her future held for her – uninterrupted, lustful, satisfying release. Plus, if she wanted a real man’s touch, she could find one on campus with no problem whatsoever. This was not Bisbee, and the field was open. She could rub off or finger herself any time she desired. If she wanted to fuck or suck, and she was, contrary to popular belief back home, no virgin, then she was also free to do so.

It was then her thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing doorbell. Horrified, she thought her parents had returned, but looking out the window from her apartment that led into the parking lot, she saw no truck.

“What the fuck?” she muttered as she rose from her position. “Who?”

Still naked, she went into the living room and peaked through the drapes, trying to figure out who was on the other side of the door. She could only make out part of a male form, but it was too inconvenient to open up and see what he wanted when she was unclothed.

While she was considering finding some proverbial fuck buddies down the road, she was not yet ready to make an open invitation.

Thus, she waited. The doorbell rang once more and then fell silent. Listening, she thought she heard the door to the apartment next to her open and someone enter. A neighbor had come to call.

At first she panicked, thinking her cries had been so loud they had vibrated through the apartment walls and someone was coming to check on her. Breathing heavily as before, she waited, but no one knocked at the door or rang the bell again. There were no police sirens. Once more, she was alone.

She considered her previous fantasy and even bent her head with her back to the mirror, expecting to see marks on her ass, but there were none. Instinctively, she rubbed her exposed rear, thought there was no real pain. It was the strangest experience she had ever come up with in her mind.

Dressing, she went to her car and drove to downtown Tempe to check out some things. She fell in love with her new home away from home at first sight. Within two hours of time, she felt as if she had lived, died, and been reborn.

The sky was the limit, just like the old cliché noted.

So Blair became acquainted with downtown Tempe and the nearby Arizona State Campus. Classes were about to start for the year, and the air was ripe with many combined vibrations. All sorts of people from all over the world had come to learn a multitude of different things. With this would come many new experiences for a girl such as herself, but no matter how she considered them, she was unable to shake the twisted fantasy that had crept into her in the isolated bed chamber. She knew before the night was over, she would do it again. While there were men and even women all over the place for the asking, she was not yet ready. Sex on her own was, at least for the moment, her preference.

Once back at the pad, she made a fast dinner for herself and thought of going to the apartment pool before it shut for the evening, but she thought better of it. Inside, she knew what she really wanted to do. There was nothing to stop her from stripping off her clothes and regressing to what she had done earlier in the privacy of her new bedroom.

Only as she made herself naked again did she think of the neighbor, who was still a faceless man in his own right. He had tried to visit and been ignored for obvious reasons, but was it not rude of her to put off the inevitable? It would have been better to go ring his own bell and make an introduction, as it was still early and the lights were on, but she had better things to do.

Once again, she was bare on the bed and fingering herself. Nothing now could prevent her from heading to an adult book store to buy a dildo or vibrator, as for certain, she had no fear of being seen. Fingers, however, worked well for her. They were her old friends and they did not let her down.

This time she did it in different positions, shifting from on her back as before to doggie style and on her side. Again, her insides churned and she groaned with pleasure, increasing with the speed of her own self-inflicted thrusts deep within. It was then the dark fantasy returned.

She was stretched out across the lap of the faceless man. Her pants were down, but her panties were up, so she was afforded at least partial protection from the blows she knew would come.

“You’ve been fingering yourself!” the faceless man’s voice bellowed, which was odd, as he had no face to speak out of. “You are a bad girl, and you’re going to learn your lesson!”

The lesson consisted of some twenty smashes against her ass cheeks, which brought a new wave of pain as each blow came down. Though her ass was burning, she knew there was more to go and she protested aloud while inside, her brain screamed for this never to stop.

Suddenly, she felt a rough pull and her panties were down off her posterior.

“No,” she pleaded. “Why are you taking them down?”

“This isn’t hurting you enough,” came the angry voice.

“Yes, it is,” she protested. “It’s hurting a lot!”

“You’re really red,” the faceless man informed her. “You’re gonna be a lot more red before I’m done!”

The spanking man’s prophecy proved true, as he continued to strike against her unprotected flesh, now uncovered to receive every painful blow.

“This is what you get,” he kept saying. “This is what you get.”

The tears started to flow over Blair’s face as she was held down to receive the full extent of her discipline, yet with every painful slap, she found herself coming closer and closer to orgasm. She was unsure whether her cries were ones of agony or ecstasy. Her ass, however, was burning as if someone held a blow torch to it, and she knew in fact, as predicted, she was going to be very red.

Again, she screamed and opened her eyes to find herself staring at the ceiling. She was gasping for breath as the final throws of her magnificent orgasm were played out and she was alone as usual.

She literally staggered from the bed toward the mirror, with her stomach still heaving and her lungs fighting for more air. More than anything else, she wanted to get toward the glass image and inspect the damage, but once more there was none. Her ass was not bruised or blistered as she anticipated There were no broken capillaries turning her crimson, but the usual untanned cheeks she was so familiar with greeted her.

“Ow!”

It was then she heard the noise, coming from the other side of the wall.

“Ow!”

Again she heard it. This time she was certain she heard a loud whap, like wood against flesh.

More screams came, followed by the unmistakable sound of two people making a serenade with the bed springs. Someone next door was spanking and fucking.

Though it was an obvious intrusion, she listened, stunned she was able to hear. She truly hoped that her own exploits, now and later, could likewise not be heard next door.

Standing there naked, in her own bedroom, she felt the call to masturbate yet again, but she was spent. The sounds, however, were a distinct turn on and biting her lip, she had the compulsion to clap when everything subsided. The silence then, was all but unbearable.

She shut off the bedroom light and waited naked in the darkness, now hearing only the sound of her own intense breathing. Her abdomen ached and she feared she was in no position to finger herself yet again, no matter how badly she wanted to, but she knew it would happen. If not, as she was too exasperated to call upon extraordinary strength, she knew she would at least dream, and in those moments the internal flooding would rise up again.

It was then a new inspiration came to her. Instead of more finger action, she thought one better. She staked out the window, on the offbeat chance of getting a glimpse of the spanker and spankee, should they emerge or the recipient not be spending the night.

She did not have to wait long, for she saw a young woman walking toward her car. Walking? Limping more like, while rubbing her ass through her pants all the while. She did however seem happy with her condition.

“I wonder what it will feel like when she sits down in her car.” Blair questioned softly to herself, but there was no way to find out.

With that thought in mind, she fell upon the bed and pulled herself naked beneath the sheet. She was too worn to get cleaned up and too tired to provoke herself to yet another exploding orgasm.

She did not dream.

The next day was Saturday, and it was two days before classes started, but she was still drained from her actions of the past evening. She decided, however, she would finally pay a visit to her neighbor, but not right away. She was hoping rather than ringing the door bell, she would encounter him offhand, so not to look too eager or curious.

She made a pretense of coming and going to her car at varied times, so he would hear the door open and shut. This produced no such luck. She found herself constantly wanting to put on her bikini and parade her body by the pool, praying the mysterious stranger would be there and he would find her ass as spankable as that of his night caller. Again, as far as she could tell, there was no such luck. Going back to her place, she undressed, showered, and put on new street clothes, considering but turning down the temptation to finger herself yet again. It was time.

Blair went next door and rang the bell.

It took a moment before a middle aged man answered. He was neither homely nor handsome, but looked like every third man one would pass on the street. He seemed to be about 40.

“I’m your new neighbor,” she announced and extended her hand. “I’m Blair.”

“Darren Foster,” he responded as he took her hand in his. Instantly, she found herself thinking how hard that hand was. Though during the disruptive night before it had sounded he used a paddle as a weapon, something was very clear just by his grip. He didn’t need one. That hand could bring anyone to tears.

“Come in,” he offered. “I was fixing burgers, so maybe you would like to eat?”

Blair accepted the invitation, but what happened in the time to come was foggy when she looked back upon it. She was certain no drug had been slipped into her food, for Darren showed no signs of predatory ambition. There was a load of dull conversation. In fact, there were hours of it. She spoke of Bisbee and her desire to move to the big city. He spoke of his day job as a real estate salesman, and how he preferred an apartment over a house, because he spent the money he made on world travel rather than a mortgage. They spoke of likes and dislikes and were growing captivated with each other in spite of a blatant age difference. This, however, was no dream state, but it seemed to be. Blair felt herself under water, as if still in the swimming pool, as the words became increasingly garbled.