Blast From The Past Ch. 04

Though her confident stride masks it, Karen has butterflies in her stomach as she strides through the gleaming hotel lobby the next night. The hotel is upscale; the crystal chandelier dangling overhead casts specks of silver over the wealthy clientele. There are men in tuxedos and women in expensive designer clothes. Karen is one of those women, though her black business suit and seven hundred dollar strappy high heels cover considerably less tasteful underwear.

She heads directly to the bank of elevators and avoids her gaze in the shiny gold doors as she waits for one to arrive. Two middle-aged businessmen in well-tailored suits wait next to her murmuring about stocks and bonds and other subjects that Karen would normally find interesting. But not tonight. Nothing had been interesting since ten o'clock that morning. Nothing had tasted right or felt right and Karen had taken the afternoon off in an effort to hide her anxiety from her staff.

At ten o'clock that morning a courier had dropped off an elegantly wrapped package. Karen had not recognized the handwriting and even now she took a moment to send up a tiny thanks that she had opened the package in the privacy of her office and not in the reception room with an audience. The flat white box had contained a mound of tissue paper, scraps of black satin and lace she supposed could be called lingerie, and a key card with a distinguished hotel logo. Perhaps she was over-reacting - it's not as though the box had contained body parts. But Karen's heart had started pounding and her pulse had not slowed in the twelve hours since.

So now, shortly after ten o'clock that same evening, she finds herself stepping into the pristine elevator with gracious company and not a respectable thought in her head. Though she knows the situation is wrong - she's being blackmailed for sex, after all - she can't help but feel a little turned on. Okay, that's a lie. Karen is desperately, painfully aroused, and terribly ashamed of it. The past four days had shown her that her libido was not dead, after all, though Karen is sufficiently modern not to be bothered by this fact. What bothers her is that she's experiencing things with William that she has never experienced in a proper relationship with a man who would not go to jail for the things he was doing.

Despite her somewhat illicit past (documented on the sexually charged videos William possesses and now uses to his advantage), Karen has never partaken in any sexual activity or proclivity that could be considered anything other than perfectly "normal." And yet in the past four days she has had every kind of sex with a man whose last name she does not know and who threatens to ruin her reputation if she denies him. A man whose cock she has choked on and begged for, whose cock took her anal virginity without tenderness or mercy, whose cock makes her swallow her reservations and come so hard she worries she might die.

These thoughts make her face turn red and Karen hopes her elevator companions cannot read her mind. Indeed when she looks up into the mirrored elevator walls they quickly look away. Karen gulps in a breath of air and jabs impatiently at the button for the twenty-first floor. She glances at her watch - she's ten minutes late - and smoothes her already smooth hair back into place.

Finally - finally - the elevator doors slide open and Karen steps out into the plushly carpeted hallway. The hall itself seems to stretch into infinity, the doors widely spaced and elegantly numbered. Karen recognizes the disparity of the tasteful hotel and the acts she has arrived to participate in and goose bumps spring up along her spine. She checks the room number on the key card and stops in front of the corresponding door. Her eyes flick nervously to the peephole and she wonders if William is watching. She swipes the card though the lock and the light turns green. After an infinitesimal pause, Karen steps inside.

The room is pitch black. The carpet is so dense that Karen can't even hear her own footsteps. She enters just far enough to close the door behind her and wait for her eyes to adjust. She feels nothing, sees nothing, hears nothing. Her heart pounds in her ears and when, after a full minute has passed and nothing has changed, her vision has not adjusted, she begins to feel afraid. And then he touches her.

It is a large, calloused hand on the back of her neck, stroking the smooth skin below her tight chignon, tracing the tendons on the side of her neck and around to her clavicle. Karen closes her eyes and swallows thickly. The fingers linger over her throbbing pulse and a warm set of lips follows, applying gentle suction.

In quick succession Karen is stripped of her suit jacket and skirt, the blouse that cost more than this room, and each and every hair pin. She stands completely still in her gifted lingerie and heels, hair spilling down her back as William - who she assumes is William - continues his thorough examination of her body. He's so thorough, in fact, that Karen begins to grow impatient. She spots the red digital numbers of a clock across the room and squints to read them - nearly ten thirty. Just how long is she expected to stand here while William essentially feels her up?

She shudders as his lips finally trail up her thigh and his tongue swipes over her cunt, exposed thanks to the crotchless panties she received that morning. A moan escapes and the tongue stills. William chuckles and rises. Karen can feel his clothing - no jeans and leather this time: it feels like he's wearing a suit and tie - and he confirms this when he whispers, "Take off my tie."

Grateful for something to do, Karen reaches up and smoothly loosens his tie, sliding the silky fabric through her fingers and around his neck until he takes the material from her and wraps it around her eyes. Karen's hands reach up automatically to pull it away, but William stops her. She has a split second to wonder why she's being blindfolded in a dark room, but those questions are answered when the lights switch on. William adjusts the tie so she is sufficiently blinded, then, with his warm hand on the small of her back, guides her across the room. When he stops she stops, and she hears him settle into what she presumes to be a chair next to her.

"Kneel," he says.

Karen kneels. It is somehow easier to "obey" his commands with her eyes covered. Easier to heed someone she has yet to see. She hears a zipper lowering and a slight rustle, then a hand on the back of her head bringing her forward. She knows what's coming and opens her mouth to receive the fat head of his cock. He pushes her too far the first time and she gags slightly, pulling back. He relents and lets her set the pace for the first few minutes.

Karen feels her pussy weeping, juices dampening the inside of her thighs. She has her hands on his knees, bracing herself, and the cool air in the room brushes along her spine and the exposed crack of her ass. William pushes himself further into her mouth and she opens as wide as she can as he bumps the back of her throat. He's made her deep throat him before and this time is no different. A few more practice runs and he is burying her nose in his pubic hair, his satisfied grunts spurring her on despite some minor discomfort. She sucks him noisily, saliva coating his shaft, and she can taste the salt and musk of him. His thrusts become shorter, harder, and Karen sucks him accordingly. Finally and without warning he comes in her mouth, spurting his come onto her tongue until he is spent. Without being asked Karen tilts her head back and parts her red lips, revealing his gleaming deposit. With her mouth open, she swallows the creamy mass. William's warm hand strokes her cheek.

"Stay here," he says, rising and slipping past her.

Karen remains kneeling before the empty armchair. She feels anxious and exposed and very turned on. She thinks about feeling afraid but reasons that William has already done everything she would have tried to stop him from doing had he had not had his leverage, so she waits.

"Turn around," William calls from across the room. "Stay on your knees and rest your arms on the chair behind you. Keep them there until I say otherwise."

Karen shuffles around so her back rests against the soft fabric of the chair, her elbows and forearms sinking into the cushion. Her back arches slightly, thrusting her breasts forward, her nipples peeking out over the extremely low-cut demi-cups.

"Spread your knees more," William orders, this time from much closer. She feels the cold tip of his shoe inside of one leg and widens her stance until he is satisfied. The smooth leather trails up the inside of one thigh, through the juices gleaming there, and slides through her glistening labia. He nudges the clasping entrance to her body and Karen's heart stops. After a second he moves away and she resumes breathing. She hears the sound of a cork popping and soon after the sound of liquid being poured into glasses.

"Champagne." William answers the unspoken question. He presses a glass against her lips and she opens her mouth to gratefully accept his offering. Karen doesn't drink often, but she recognizes money when she tastes it, and William had clearly spared no expense. He does not remove the glass until it is empty and Karen licks her lips. She hears him drink his own beverage then there is a muted thud and a slight movement on the ground below her.

William's fingers swipe through her pussy, separating her labia, and his free hand comes to rest on her shoulder, pushing her down. Karen obeys until she feels the cold glass bottle nudging her seeping core. She freezes. "No," she says.

"Do it," William orders.

Karen shakes her head. "No."

"Trust me," he says.

Karen stills. How far can she reasonably be expected to trust her blackmailer? Enough to fuck a champagne bottle? No. Never.

"No," she says again.

William sighs and removes his hand from her cunt. He places it on her other shoulder and presses down harder. Karen whimpers and he lowers his face to hers, separating her lips with his tongue and kissing her. If he wants to surprise her, this is the way. How does the man trying to make her impale herself on a bottle kiss her with such thorough tenderness?

"Trust me," he whispers.

Karen lets him push her down over the mouth of the bottle. She feels the cold glass sliding inside her cunt and shivers. She is so wet that it slides in easily, and after six inches the pressure from William's hands disappears and she sighs in relief.

"You look beautiful," William tells her, hands stroking over her full breasts and trailing down her stomach. "I'm going to let you come while you fuck that bottle."

Those are words Karen had never expected to hear and she has to force herself to remain calm. Well, calm is relative, but the whir of a vibrator makes her nipples tighten impossibly more and soon she feels William's stroking hand on her hip as he places the vibrator against her pussy. The rough vibrations make her entire body stiffen and her lips fall open. Karen moans. She forgets she is mounted on the mouth of a champagne bottle and thrusts her hips forward to meet the vibrator. William chuckles and turns it up a notch and Karen moans again, louder. William presses it hard against her, one hand dropping to her thigh, encouraging her to fuck the bottle. He watches her sink lower as her orgasm heightens, watches the thick green glass split her oozing pussy, listens as her breathing turns raspy and heated.

"Fuck that bottle," he whispers. This is a particular fantasy of his. To bring Karen to such a state of arousal that she will do anything for him. Now with his silk tie covering her eyes and the lingerie he had selected for her barely covering her most prized parts, William feels his cock swell.

"Fuck it," he orders. "Deeper, harder." He flips the vibrator to its highest setting and Karen cries out. Her fingers dig into the armchair cushion and colour flushes her cheeks and chest. "Come for me, Karen," William urges. "Tell me how good it feels."

"Oh!" Karen gasps as her body starts to convulse. "Oh God. Oh God."

He can see the muscles in her stomach contracting, her thighs tense and straining, and he presses the vibrator to her as tightly as he can without preventing her from fucking the bottle. Finally she arches one final, sharp time and a cry freezes on her parted red lips. Her pussy clasps the shining bottle and William uses a hand to keep it inside her as her cunt spasms frantically around it. When he senses she's done he switches off the vibrator and lays it on the ground next to him. Without letting himself think about it William dips his head forward and swipes his tongue through her pussy, tasting splashes of champagne and come. He sucks her swollen clitoris into his mouth and Karen moans and pushes weakly at his head. He backs away and stares at her pretty face.

"What do you say?" he asks, because that is, after all, his role.

A moment.

"Thank you," Karen finally replies.

William leads Karen to the king size bed, still blindfolded. She follows obediently, her fingers enfolded in his. If she tries hard enough she can ignore the fact that she is doing what she's doing. Her head says it's wrong. Her heart says it's wrong. But those are not the body parts William stimulates.

The things she has felt in these past days with William are feelings she has pushed down and ignored for ten years. Her sex life has always been comfortable, routine, and adequate. Never had she awoken the morning after with bruises and a limp in her step; never had she had to sit down quite so gingerly the following day. Karen has decided to view this week as a reawakening: there is clearly a part of her that enjoys the submissive role she plays with William, though it is not a role she is willing to fully acknowledge. What she does admit is the fact that she has made a mistake by pretending never to have had these feelings at all. Karen doubts that she would have ever had the courage or the nerve to act on these ideas on her own; William's approach may not have been ideal - or even legal - but Karen believes that the end result will be a more satisfied, sexually confident woman, and through that reasoning she is able to lie on the bed, eyes still covered, and wait for William's next command.

"Do you like the blindfold?" William asks. He has moved some distance away; his voice is faint.

"Yes," Karen answers. The last time she was blindfolded she had been swinging a baseball bat at a papier mâché donkey, hoping for candy. Now the roles are reversed and she is the one awaiting the next hit.

She can hear William's footsteps drawing nearer, then the sound of a bottle being placed on the side table near her head. "Did you like tasting yourself the other day?" he inquires. "When I put the dildo in your mouth, did you like the taste of your pussy?"

Karen knows he is being purposely crude, just as he knows that she did not enjoy it. What did she did enjoy was not being responsible for their activities: William did all the planning, she followed his lead.

"You know I didn't." The champagne bottle is next to her head; if she tries hard enough she can smell it. She does not want to drink from the bottle.

"Are you thirsty?" William asks, reading her expression. He's smiling; even if he were the one blindfolded he would know her response.

"No."

He chuckles and strokes a hand from her throat to the junction of her thighs, feeling her simply because he can. Karen shudders and he does it again, this time pausing to remove her bra. He has shed his own clothing and now he sits beside her on the bed and lowers his face to her breast, sucking her plump nipple into his mouth. She arches into him gently and he places a broad hand on her stomach to hold her to the bed. He torments her for a moment then pulls away, deciding.

"Put your hands over your head," he orders.

There is a second's hesitation before Karen raises her hands. Her fingers meet the cool metal of the ornate wrought iron headboard.

"Grip the bars."

She does.

There is a sharp click and padded cuffs are fastened around her wrists. Karen makes a soft exclamation of surprise and tests the restraints: she cannot free her hands. She feels the mattress lift as William rises.

"Are you afraid?" he asks from the foot of the bed.

Karen is trembling but she shakes her head.

William wraps a warm hand around both ankles and tugs Karen down the bed so her arms are fully extended. Without pushing herself up the bed she cannot easily move her upper torso.

William approaches from the opposite side of the bed and sits down, immediately returning his mouth to her breast, this time focusing his attention on her other straining nipple. Karen moans; despite her heated condition the warmth of William's mouth on her skin has goose bumps exploding up and down her body.

As his mouth works on her nipple William's free hand traces patterns on her right breast, across her stomach, over her pubic bone. Karen raises her hips and sighs heavily; she felt so weak after the first orgasm that she had not thought it possible to become aroused again. As always with William, she is wrong.

"Do you want my fingers in your cunt?" William asks softly, punctuating the question by biting hard on her nipple.

Karen squeaks but manages a strangled, "Yes."

"Then spread your legs," he orders. "Wide."

Karen parts her legs until she can feel the sticky folds of her pussy parting. William's fingers stroke the sensitive crease of skin where her thigh meets her torso, but does not apply pressure where she really needs it.

"Karen." The word is a warning that Karen heeds, bending her knees slightly and spreading her legs as wide as they can go.

"Beautiful," William says, cupping her leaking core with his hand.

"Oh," Karen utters. "Harder. Please."

William bites her nipple in response.

"Not there!" Karen exclaims. "Down - My - My..." She doubts it will ever be easy to speak the way the women in movies do; she doesn't even like talking about these things with her friends.

William pushes his middle finger deep into her pussy, strokes her once, twice, three times, then pulls his hand away and pushes that same finger into her mouth. Karen moans and twists her face away.

"Say it," William says, forcing his finger between her teeth.

"My pussy!" Karen snaps, spitting his finger out.

William chuckles and this time uses his thumb to find her clit and circle gently.

"Yes," Karen breathes.

After another moment the only sounds in the room are that of William's suckling and Karen's soft moans. The peaceful atmosphere is quickly disrupted when a second mouth fastens onto Karen's other breast.

Karen shrieks and tries to sit up, but her hands are fastened high above her head and William is pinning her down from below: she is held fast in place.

"Wh- what...?" she stammers, trying to find the words. "Who... who is it?"

"Just enjoy, Karen," William murmurs, neither his hand nor his mouth slowing. A second hand has been added to her body, stroking her stomach, her hip.

"William, I-" She wants to say she never agreed to this, but it seems too obvious. "This is not-"

While the mystery mouth remains hard at work on her breast, William stops his ministrations and grips Karen's jaw with a rough hand.

"Karen," he says with forced patience, "this isn't about what you want, is it? This is my week. You do what I say, and who I say, when I say. And right now I say shut the fuck up."

William nearly relents when he sees Karen's lower lip tremble and a tear leak from under the blindfold. He nearly sends his guest away, though doing so would severely interrupt his plans for the evening. Instead he wipes away the tear and kisses her plump lips. "It's nobody you know," he says softly. "Nobody you will know."