The Ultimate Erotica Collection: 3 Books in 1 - Destined to Play, The Silver Chain, Run to You. Primula Bond
sensation begins to recede. It starts and it stops. I am left panting, overwhelmed. Cooling ointment is being caressed into my buttocks, so smoothly, so seductively I could weep at the miraculous change in intensity. I’m already emotionally spent. Can I really take this? Perhaps my thesis would have proved a very different piece of work had I experienced this first-hand.
Then again thwack, thwack, and again higher, lower, within and around … and I lose count …
My world slides into slow motion. I’m splitting in two.
My body arches and retracts in both desperation and desire as it attempts to avoid the impact of the relentless lashes on my buttocks. I’m writhing and squirming internally as my arse maintains its rigid position as if it is begging for more. Is it, I wonder?
My hips are held firm as yet again the probing fingers effortlessly slide in to reacquaint themselves with my vagina. I feel the deep vibration in my lower body that releases a seed of invitation to this entire experience. I feel my vulva swell in anticipation as if my vagina is welcoming a long-lost friend and I am throbbing, aching and wet. I have no doubt the owner of the fingers is ensuring this information is ‘noted’, given its extended stay within me.
They leave. Cooling ointment arrives, applied with hands stroking softly, gently, my arse attempting to replicate the rhythm of the caress. Once again tears flow with the relief and tenderness of it. What is happening to me?
I’m left alone. I breathe. I sob.
Blackness and silence encompass me.
It is only now that I register I want more.
The straps under my knees and binding my ankles are released. My legs tremble and shake in response. Knees are repositioned further apart, spread wide, re-strapped and ankles realigned and anchored accordingly. Oh, dear god. Abstractly, I wonder why I use the term ‘god’ in such highly sexualised moments. The bar is shifted into a higher position, resulting in my arse becoming an even more obvious spread-eagled target, if that were possible. The essence of my womanhood, the physical entrances to my inner sanctum being showcased, spotlighted, publicly stage managed for examination by however many people are present in this sadistic audience. This can’t possibly be who I am, can it?
My heart cannot beat fast enough to accommodate the power my anticipatory arousal cascades over my entire body.
Thwack. Pause. Then a smooth, cold, sliding sensation over the sting.
Then again. Thwack. Pause. Slide.
Thwack. Pause. Slide … It establishes a rhythm my body starts to anticipate and desire, shifting itself like a ladder across my arse. I try to prepare for the collision, but am left with only the sensation of the exquisite pain before the reassuring slide and relief of the more caressing touch. I throb in anticipation of this effect. The focus shifts to my inner thighs, not as forceful, but so enormously arousing.
I want more.
I need more.
I receive more.
The combination of pleasure and pain is blowing my mind and my body has no choice but to revel in this carnal ambush.
It stops. I gasp. Given the concentration on my behind and thighs, it takes me a moment to acknowledge someone is fiddling with my nipples, tweaking them before clamping them. The sensation shoots straight to my groin. Something is belted around my waist that forces my body closer to the floor, my arse maintaining its position over the bar. All restraints are checked again and tightened, and their security is tested by my own body as a low current emits from whatever is attached to my nipples, the warm shock of it ensuring my entire body bucks against the restraints. I silently shriek at the tantalising impact. As I adjust to the sensation, it’s as if the current from my nipples is directly attached to my clitoris like a sexually charged triangular wire. The tingling warms my entire body and the pain becomes a teasing, pleasurable vibration. God, what are they doing to me? I have become a sexual exhibit, something you might see depicted in the future of MONA’s darkest hours.
The striking continues, bringing the intruding pain to the forefront of my body and mind. Then the pleasure returns, albeit briefly. Then the pain. My body allows them complete control in alternating between these extreme sensations with the flick of a switch. I am Pavlov’s dog.
It is as if my body has acclimatised to the sensation of such pleasurable pain as it takes me a moment to realise it has been replaced once again by a low vibration flowing through my nipples. The fingers reassert themselves beyond my vulva, and attach something that emits an intense vibration close to my clitoris. Too close! I freeze with panic and desire; my vulnerability is absolute. The intensity of the vibration increases, slowly and steadily. I feel myself break into a sweat of sexual anxiety. The fingers bypass my buzzing clit and spend time probing and exploring my vagina, my perineum. If I could move, I’d have collapsed in a heap on the floor by now. As it is, my body is like melting wax hardening in time against the mould the restraints provide. I notice that my body temperature is rising, along with my rapturous arousal.
The fingers are now warm, experienced, pleasure-seeking fingers and I feel my opening welcoming them in further, deeper. My mute throat groans with both shame and desire as I beseech my mind to stay alert. The fingers locate dimensions I have never found before, never explored myself. My perineum, my anus, nothing is ignored in this process. Oh god! Jeez, there’s that word again. They play and push and press and probe, as if monitoring and assessing the impact their every touch has on my body. I desperately try to control my responses, to rein these intensely sexual feelings in, but they are free spirits, they won’t be tempered. The fingers settle, positioning themselves carefully, then insistently, then rhythmically, then intensely as they set off rippled explosions through my muscles. I absently wonder if an orgasm can be forced upon you. Do I want to have an orgasm in front of others? Will I have the choice?
Oh god …
Vibrations soar through my nipples and clitoris as my mind becomes awash with pleasure and desire. My ability to control the ambush of pleasure penetrating my body is a receding black hole in my mind’s eye. Although entirely bound and anchored to the earth, my grip on reality is being diluted by the second. I sense the ominous waves building momentum over the horizon, threatening to annihilate my mind and enable my body’s ultimate surrender.
I focus.
They probe.
I resist.
They vibrate.
I freeze.
They target.
I relinquish.
They pleasure.
I release.
They win.
The next second introduces me to the most amazingly intense, shooting, powerful sensation I have ever felt in my life. It enters at the tip of my nipples and surges through my body at lightning speed, coinciding with the very lubricated penetration of both my vagina and my anus. I reel against the total ambush of my body so completely I now feel as if I have torn free from my restraints and physically crashed into the ceiling.
All concept of time is suspended; my rational brain officially closes down, enabling my sensory mind to take full control and allow direct passage to every feeling and sensation colliding with my body. I am launched into another stratosphere.
Surrender!
Freedom!
Pure … sensual … ecstasy …
Warm, throbbing vibrations emanating from the core of my being.
It is all-encompassing, wave after endless wave of bliss.
The rhythm, the waves of rapture moving through me.
I’m throbbing, pulsing … is this too much?
Can I take any more?
I certainly hope so …
Vibrations regain their intense focus in my very being, pounding deep within my core, but the ride has become smoother,