The Revelation (35 page)

“Okay.” He exhales. “God, I wish you could see your
nipples under your dress right now. They’re like little bullets. So
fucking sexy.”

I lick my lips.

“Hey, why don’t we get some music cranking?” he
says. “That’ll help loosen things up. Hang on.”

I remain on my knees in the blackness, my cuffed
arms dangling in front of me, wondering where the hell he’s taken
me.

After a brief moment, an old-school funk song fills
my ears.

I feel Josh’s body heat next to me again. “‘Thank
You For Letting Me Be Myself,’” Josh says. “Sly and the Family
Stone—greatest funk band ever.”

I’ve never heard this song before, but it’s
definitely got a great groove—my body’s already involuntarily
pulsing to the beat—and I can’t imagine a better song to kick off
our mutual sick-fuckedness than a tune called, “Thank You For
Letting Me Be Myself.”

I hear the sound of Josh’s fly unzipping. “Open your
mouth,” he grunts.

I do as I’m told and warm flesh unexpectedly whacks
me in the mouth. I flinch out of surprise.

“Lick my balls,” he growls softly.

I smile. That was an extremely porno-y thing to say,
especially with this awesome bow-chick-a-wow-wow-music blaring
around us. And that’s exactly what I wanted—to star in my own
porno. Hell yeah. I stick out my tongue and do as I’m told—well, as
best I can, anyway—I must say, without the use of my eyes or hands
to help me with my task, licking and sucking on balls feels a bit
like bobbing for dangling apples—but after a few minutes, I get the
hang
of it (snicker) and really start delivering some
seriously excellent ball-licking-and-sucking, if I do say so
myself.

“Good,” Josh says after several minutes, his voice
ragged. “Congratulations. You’ve just earned the right to suck my
cock.”

My clit flutters. “Thank you, sir,” I purr. I open
my mouth. It’s watering with anticipation. Being Josh’s slave is
turning me on every bit as much as I fantasized it would.

I feel the sensation of Josh’s wet tip resting
against the subtle cleft in my chin (surprise!), followed by his
shaft sliding into my open mouth, all the way to the back of my
throat—so far, my eyes bug out behind my blindfold. Holy
motherfucking shitballs. Good lord, that’s a lot of dick all at
once.

My throat closes up and I gag.

“Relax,” Josh coos, running his hands through my
hair. “Take a deep breath and relax your throat.”

I breathe through my nose and focus on releasing my
throat muscles, and sure enough, my throat opens up and Josh’s cock
slides farther into me. Holy Big Dick, Batman, Josh is so far
inside my throat, I can’t do a damned thing but sit here like a
blowup-doll. This ain’t no Katherine Morgan Ultimate Blowjob
Experience, folks—this is nothing but Crack Whore Blowjob. I’m just
a warm hole, for crying out loud—no skill or finesse required for
this job. I can’t suck or lick or swirl my tongue or finger or
massage or do any of my other tricks. I could be anyone, really.
Anything. It’s demeaning, I tell you—dehumanizing.
And I love
it.

Josh lets out a particularly sexy sound and my body
begins clenching furiously in reply—but my throat is so filled up,
I barely make a sound.

He’s rippling in my mouth. He’s gonna blow. Oh my
God. This is so effing sexy.

But, nope. He doesn’t come. He pulls out of my
mouth, instead.

I cough and sputter, trying to calm my raging throat
muscles.

I can hear Josh breathing heavily. “Since you sucked
my dick so well,” he says, his voice ragged, “I’m gonna reward you
by taking off your blindfold now.”

“Thank you, sir,” I squeak out in a scratchy voice.
Oh my God. My throat is throbbing.

Josh’s fingers slide into my hair and then,
suddenly, the blindfold is off.

“Holy shitballs,” I say, looking around and blinking
in the soft light. “What the... ?”

“This is my
lair
,” Josh says, obviously
trying (but failing) to suppress a huge grin.

Oh my effing God, we’re in a
bona fide
sex-dungeon—a glittering, gleaming BDSM dungeon like nothing I’ve
ever seen or even imagined. I knew places like this existed, but
this place is... well, out of a fantasy.

It’s a large, windowless room with black marble
floors. The walls are painted a deep chocolate brown. Gold and
crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, along with an
eye-popping assortment of cages, harnesses, whips, chains, pulleys,
racks, and other suspended contraptions I couldn’t identify if my
life depended on it. There’s an X-shaped, padded rack in the middle
of the room. A system of pulleys in the far corner next to a bunch
of studded leather straps. A neatly arranged assortment of leather
riding crops and feathered rods sits prominently in the middle of
the room. Oh, shit, what’s that spherical cage-thing hanging from
the ceiling? It looks like a birdcage for a very, very large
canary.

“Come with me.” Josh pulls me to standing and drags
me across the room to a harness-looking-rack-contraption.
Wordlessly, he unlatches my soft cuffs, strips off all my clothes,
and straps me into bindings, spreading my limbs out into a
four-pointed star. Oh my God. I’m completely opened up in this
position—his for the taking, any which way he pleases.

My body is jolting with excitement.

“Relax into the bindings,” Josh says, his voice full
of smooth confidence. “They’ll hold your weight.”

I try to let myself relax, but I can’t seem to do
it.

“Take a deep breath,” he commands, grazing his
fingers across my belly. “And then let it out slowly.”

I do as I’m told and allow myself to melt into my
bindings—and, I’ll be damned, just like he said, my limbs are being
fully supported and held into place. I’m like a fly caught in a
web. Immovable. Completely at his mercy. A little sound of arousal
lurches out of my throat.

Josh peels off his clothes slowly, his blue eyes
smoldering at me as he does, and stands in front of me, his
erection straining, his muscles tense. “Your body is mine,” he
says.

“Yes, sir.”

He looks me up and down for a moment, smiling
wickedly. “Hmm. What shall I do to my slave first?”

I shudder.

He ambles over to a nearby rack and runs his hand
along a selection of implements, finally selecting a long,
feathered rod from the rack. When he returns to me, he’s smiling
devilishly.

“I had to have you,” he says. “I couldn’t go another
day.”

He lazily drifts the tickler over my breasts, belly,
and hips, culling goose bumps out of every square inch it touches.
I moan. He does it again. And then again. And then he leans into me
and unexpectedly sucks on my hard nipple.

When I cry out with excitement, he reaches down and
plunges his fingers inside me, making me jerk and jolt in my
bindings.

“Dripping wet,” he says softly. “Such a good
girl.”

At his words, as if right on cue, I feel a glob of
wetness ooze out of my crotch like thick molasses and onto my
thigh.

“Oh,” he says. He brings his fingers to his mouth.
“Delicious.”

I let out a long, steady exhale.

Josh walks slowly around to my backside and begins
tickling the backs of my thighs and ass with his feather.

I let out a little moan. I can’t stand this anymore.
I’ve never wanted a man as much as I want Josh right now. I shift
my hips, desperate to relieve the pressure building inside me, but
it’s no use. I’m about to climax. I can feel it. I’m in pain with
this ache.

The feather retreats.

A warm, wet tongue licks my ass, and just when I
begin melting into the delicious pleasure, I feel a sharp pain on
my ass cheek—the unmistakable sensation of being bitten.

I shriek and jerk in my bindings.

He chuckles.

“Jesus,” I mutter.

His tongue returns to my backside and begins
exploring every inch of my ass as his fingers slide to my clit and
wetness and begin working me with astonishing skill. Oh shit. I’ve
never been touched like this before. Where’d he learn to do this?
Oh my fuck. His tongue is lapping at me from behind while his
fingers are
owning
me. I want to writhe, but I can’t. I want
to shift to relieve myself of the pressure building inside me, but
I’m completely immobile.

“Fuck!” I say through gritted teeth. “Fuck, fuck. Oh
my God.
Fuck
.”

My body suddenly wracks with a twisting orgasm and I
jerk against my bindings like a fish out of water.

Before my orgasm ends, I feel Josh rising up behind
me. There’s the unmistakable sound of fluid splooging out of a
bottle and then a finger sliding up my asshole. I shudder. Oh my
effing God. He wraps his arms around me from behind, cleaves
himself to my back, grabs ahold of my breasts with lubed palms, and
slides his slick cock up my ass, eliciting a low groan from deep
inside me.

“I own you,” he growls into my ear, his voice
strained.

I’m incapable of replying. I’ve tried anal before,
but not like this—not when I’m completely sober (and therefore
feeling every goddamned inch). Not when I’m bound and trussed like
a pig on a spit in a goddamned sex dungeon. Not when the dick in
question is a freaking donkey-dick, not to mention attached to the
sexiest fucking slab of man I’ve ever seen—who just so happened to
abscond with me out of a bathroom while wearing a freaking ski
mask.

I moan loudly.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he says into my
ear. “Harder than you ever have.”

I groan. This is too intense. I’m not sure I can
handle this. I thought I could, but it might be too much, even for
a dirty little freak like me.

“Beg me for more,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m not
in all the way yet.”

There’s
more
? Holy fucking hell. This sure
feels like all of him.

“Beg me,” he grits out.

“More.
Please
,” I choke out, even though I’m
not sure I can handle it.

He gives me what I’ve asked for and I inhale sharply
in shock—but before I can exhale my breath, something glides inside
my vagina and begins vibrating from deep inside me. Oh my fuck. My
breathing is shallow. I’m like a pug with heatstroke. Oh my God.
There’s more. Something begins swiping at my clit like a tongue. Oh
Jesus. He’s using some kind of rabbit vibe on me. Oh my fuckity
fuck. I let out a strangled cry. I’ve never been filled up like
this, stimulated in every conceivable way all at once. I feel like
my body’s scattering in a thousand directions, all at once,
exploding and melting at the same time. Too much. No more. Can’t
handle. Gah.

Josh pumps his donkey-dick harder inside me while
the vibe does its thing.

“Oh fuck,” he says, his voice ragged.
“
Fuck
.”

Yeah. My thoughts exactly.

One of his hands gropes my breast and pinches my
nipple so hard, I shriek, and just like that, my body spasms
violently with pleasure so intense, I dry heave. Oh shit, I’ve
never done that before. Oh God. I do it again. I’m losing complete
control of my bodily functions. I feel like I’m gonna barf. Or pee.
Or crap myself. Or all of the above. I’ve never felt this much
intense pleasure all at once. My body can’t handle it. It’s going
completely haywire. My insides are twisting violently. It’s like
the pleasure is literally tying me into knots. I make a strangled,
gagging sound, followed by a whimper. And then another shriek. But
Josh doesn’t stop. In fact, he fucks me harder.

I jerk pathetically, trying to escape the clenching
pleasure that’s brutalizing me, but my bindings hold me firmly in
place.

“No more,” I yell. “I can’t do it. Stop.” I have
never in the history of my life said these words during sex. But
this extreme pleasure—or is it pain?—is just too much for me to
endure. I can’t function. I can’t survive it. “
Stop
,” I say.
“
Stop
.”

But Josh doesn’t stop. In fact, his thrusts are
becoming even deeper, if that were possible, and even more
passionate.

He bites my shoulder so hard, I’m sure he’s broken
the skin.

I shriek again and convulse like he’s electrocuted
me.

“You’re
mine,
” he breathes.

Warm liquid suddenly (and shockingly) gushes out of
me in a torrent. I convulse again and again, enraptured and
tormented in equal measure, crying out for relief but getting none.
I dry heave again. And then finally, mercifully, my body goes
completely slack. I hang my head and a drop of sweat—or is that a
tear?—falls down the tip of my nose and to the ground. Holy
crap.

Josh quickly unties my wrists and I crumple into his
arms, shaking and twitching.

His lips press against my ear. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head.

“Did it feel good?”

I nod.

He picks me up and carries me into a small bathroom
with red walls and gold fixtures. He sets me down gently. “Can you
hold onto the counter for a second?” he asks.

I nod.

He turns on the water in the shower and then guides
me under the warm stream.

“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?” he asks. “I think I
got carried away.”

I shake my head.

“You told me to stop, but you didn’t use the safe
word.”

“I didn’t want you to stop. I’m glad you didn’t
stop. Only stop if I use the safe word.”

He kisses my mouth and pulls me into him gently,
letting the warm water rain down on us. “You’re sure you’re
okay?”

“It was amazing.”

He washes me from head to toe, and when he’s done,
guides me out of the shower and dries me off. “Stay here,” he
commands. “I have something for you.”

I nod and wait. I’m shaking like I’ve just run a
marathon.

He’s gone quite a while, it seems, and when he
returns, he’s fully dressed and holding up a white satin nightie.
“Lift up your arms,” he commands.