Under His Spell (9 page)

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said.

“Yes, master.” Her voice was breathy, her blood pounding through her body. She strained her legs, but it was hard to move with the restraints above her knees. He had to help her until she settled her calves on the back of his.

But then he didn’t do anything. Absolutely nothing at all.

“Nicky,” he said softly, his voice so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her ear. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I think you have excellent taste in men.”

She smiled, her lips curving as she reflected on his words. Was he right? Was she as smart as she pretended? In this place the answer was a definite yes.

And then she felt him shift. Between one breath and the next he pushed himself inside her. She arched in reaction, but she couldn’t move far. She was so wet, he went in easily, but god he filled her. She was stretched from inside and weighted down from above. He completely surrounded her, and it was wonderful.

Then he withdrew in a long pull before slamming back into her. She felt the impact like a body blow, hard
and full and perfect. The impact filled her mind and body, ratcheting everything tighter.

He did it again. Oh yes, again! Her breath shuddered, her body tightened. Once more and then…

He didn’t slam in again. He withdrew abruptly and stayed away. The emptiness was a huge loss, but she still felt his weight pressing her hips down. “Lick me!” he ordered. “And suck. Lightly.”

She extended her tongue, startled to find his chest right above her mouth. He stretched and moved, but apparently not where he wanted. He moved again. Her tongue rolled over muscle and flesh and through chest hair. Then she felt it: the hard nub of his nipple. She concentrated there, flicking her tongue over it, even sucking it as best as she could. When he groaned above her, she knew she had done well.

Then he was gone, his chest pulled away. She barely had time to process that he was gone when she felt his penis thrust hard into her again. Big. Thick. Abrupt. She cried out at the impact.

He was grinding into her with every thrust. His motions were hard, his every gasp seemingly wrenched from him.

She had done this to him. She had brought him to this mindless place of rutting, and she loved it. The slam into her felt so right. She tightened her legs but she couldn’t get a grip. She wanted to come. She needed to…

Her belly tightened, but it was too late.

“Agh!” he roared as he released into her. She felt his contractions, knew each individual pulse of his organ as she tightened around him. She so wanted to follow him, but she couldn’t. She didn’t. And so she whimpered, even as she gloried in his steady pulse inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, his groan trembling from
him into her. It was hard to breathe, and the table was going to cut off her circulation soon. She hoped he didn’t fall asleep there on top of her, but how wonderful if she had just brought him to exhaustion. The accomplishment warmed her, even as worries began to lap at the edges of her mind. Should she say something? Should she wake him?

She needn’t have wondered. Within moments, he took a deep shuddering breath and stirred. “You’re going to kill me,” he whispered into her ear. “But I’m going to die happy.”

Then with a heave, he pushed himself up and off of her. The move was abrupt and devastating. She could finally breathe, but the loss of his heat and his presence created an ache of loneliness.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he said, his tone regretful. “I just meant to tease you, but you’re so damn beautiful, I got carried away.”

She didn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say except that she liked that she could distract him, that she could bring him to that place of mindlessness just like her own.

“Was that a perfect orgasm?” he asked.

“No, master.”

“Of course not. Because you didn’t even orgasm, did you?”

“No, master.”

“So let’s fix that. But first I’ll have to wash you off.”

She exhaled slowly, waiting for the brush of cloth. Her legs had flopped off the edge again, so she was wide open for his ministrations. Maybe the cloth would do what he hadn’t—

Water dripped on her groin, and she cried out in
surprise, arching away though she couldn’t go far. Instead, she felt the steady stream flow on her inside thigh. Cold. Shocking. But before she could register more than that, he pressed his forearm on her belly, pinning her down.

“Don’t move, Nicky. Stay right there.”

“Yes, master,” she said. She relaxed her thighs and her back. The tension was beginning to hurt anyway. Then she heard noises that she didn’t understand. He was close, but not touching her.

And the stream of water moved. Up her thigh, into her mons, and then…right onto her. And if she had any doubt as to his intention, his fingers touched her, lifting her flesh away such that the stream slid right over her clit.

She gasped, feeling overwhelmed by the sensations. Cold water flowing over her. Her nipples tightened in reaction. In fact, her entire body clenched at the icy feel.

Then it was abruptly gone to be replaced by a curling heat through her groin. His tongue, she realized, stroking. Warming. Thick and long as he tongued her flesh to life again. Then harder and pointy as he swirled around her clit.

After the frigid cold, this was incredible. Her body tensed, her belly tightened. She was building fast to orgasm. Just one more…

Ice hit her clit. Not the steady stream of water, but a square-shaped ice cube, pressed right against her flesh. She yelped and recoiled, but it didn’t help. He followed her, neither moving the hard form against her to push her over the orgasmic edge nor easing it away to keep the cold from numbing everything. At least it was melting.

And while her thoughts were still on the slowly shrinking cube of ice, she felt his mouth on her nipple. She hadn’t even realized he’d moved until the suction began on her breast. He was tonguing her, warming her torso while part of her remained ice-cold. The dichotomy was surprisingly exciting. Hot and cold. Bound and free. And alive. So very alive. As if every nerve in her body was hyperalert, ready for any sensation—every sensation!—to explode across her mind.

He stopped with her right breast, leaving it puckered and wet. The cold on her nipple was a dim echo of the cold below. The ice had fallen away or melted completely—she didn’t know. She didn’t really care. It was all glorious sensation.

And then there was more.

“N
ICKY
,”
HE WHISPERED.
His lips were right by her ear, and his heated breath fluttered her hair deep enough to warm her scalp.

“Yes, master?”

“Nicky, I’m going to ask you some questions now. If you answer honestly, you’ll get a reward. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.”

“And even more important, I want you to remember these questions, okay? I’d like to talk to you about them later. After…well, after tonight, if you want.”

“Yes, master.”

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. The movement was so abrupt that it was over by the time she thought to respond.

“Okay, Nicky. First question. Does being bound like this excite you sexually?”

“Yes, master.”

She felt his hand stroke her cheek, caressing over her jaw and up toward her eye. He had to stop at the edge
of the blindfold, but then stroked back down toward her ear.

“Describe the sensations to me, please,” he said. “How does this arousal feel?”

She frowned, but strove to answer. In this place of non-thought, she had no inhibition about speaking of these things. She simply began a head-to-toe catalog. “My scalp is tight—it almost tingles. My mouth is dry, my lips feel swollen. And I can breathe. Fully, deeply. But every breath I take makes my breasts bigger, tighter. And my nipples are wet and cold and full and hard and I don’t know. They want more.”

She felt his hand then, stroking and shaping her left breast. There didn’t seem to be any purpose in his touch, just a casual lift and caress, but it was as if he’d stirred the embers of a fire that was only starting to cool. She drew in a breath and arched her back as best as she could. She loved what he did.

“Keep going, Nicky. What else do you feel?”

“Wide open. My legs are spread and there is wetness everywhere.”

“Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?”

“No. My belly feels so liquid, as if everything is soft. Like warmed butter. But it’s growing hard again.”

“Hard is unpleasant?”

“Hard is…cold. Rigid.”

He left her breast, and she sighed in dismay. Then she felt his tongue on her groin. His tongue was thick and warm as he lapped a long stroke from her base to her clit. Each stroke had her tightening her butt, pulling open her thighs, lifting as much as possible to his mouth. But he was leisurely. Again, he stirred the fire without seeming to have a destination in mind.

A ripple began from his tongue, a tiny wave that
rolled up her belly but stopped at her diaphragm. It was only a precursor and it was only one.

“More,” she murmured. “I want more.”

He stopped. “Then you have to keep answering, Nicky. Do you have to be bound on this table to enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

“Could I not just do this to you in a bed?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

He released his breath in a huff. He’d left her groin, but had one hand high on her left thigh, a single source of heat especially as he began to knead the flesh there. She wasn’t used to anyone pushing deeply into the skin there, into the muscles that pulled with the movements of his thumb. But it added to the sensations, and she felt her entire focus center on what he did.

“You are bound and blindfolded, Nicky. I could bring others into this room and you could do nothing about it. Does that excite you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“So you’d like to have a man on each of your breasts, another holding you open with yet another man pumping into you?”

“Yes.” She was panting at the thought.

“What about spanking?”

She blinked and didn’t answer.

“Nicky, does that excite you?”

“I don’t know.” She had never tried pain as a sexual aid. Without this blank state, she would never have allowed herself to think of it before. But now, under his spell, she had the freedom to consider anything, to do anything.

She felt him press a kiss at the very top of her thigh where leg met lower abdominals in a long indent of very sensitive flesh. His lips lingered there, and he even used his teeth to graze the skin. She shivered at the feel, her moan releasing naturally and openly.

“What is sex usually like for you? Without the hypnosis.”

“Nonexistent,” she answered.

“But it must have happened sometime. You weren’t a virgin, were you?”

“No.”

“Then what was sex like before?”

“Directed,” she said. The answer came out as all her answers did in this place: without prior thought. The first thing that came into her head without censorship or even understanding.

“Directed?” he asked. “How so?”

“I tell him what to do and how. Occasionally I let him pick the position.”

“You’re in charge, then,” he said.

“Yes, master.”

“But you’re not now.”

“No, master.”

“And you like it better this way.”

She smiled. “Much better.”

She flexed toward him, hoping he would reward her now. He did, but only absently. His fingers sunk into her. She had felt this from him before, the thrust of fingers that he wiggled inside her. The roll of his thumb around her clit. But in this place, there was only now, and so this was as exciting as it was before, as powerful a build to orgasm as before. She ached for him to keep doing it.

But again he stopped, and she whimpered as he withdrew from her.

“You have done very well, Nicky, and so now I’m going to give you a gift. I’m going to tell you an image for you to hold in your thoughts. You’re going to live it, to experience it just as I direct. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.”

“I want you to pretend that you are a virgin sacrifice in an ancient society. A beautiful young girl with a perfect body. You are being brought naked before the high priest—me.”

As he spoke, his words painted a picture for her. She saw herself not as Nicky, but as a young woman, innocent as she never was. But in this moment, in this place, she was sweet. Open. Vulnerable.

“Are we at the volcano?” she asked. “On the island?”

He paused a moment. “The volcano where you threw your cell phone in?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, we are. We’re right there, beside the volcano, and you’re naked. You’re naked, but you are not afraid as acolytes tie you to this table and spread you open before me. Is this what you are experiencing, Nicky?”

“Yes, master.” Some tiny part of her realized that her voice was higher than before, younger sounding.

“The high priest comes to you, Nicky. He is going to kiss you on the lips, and in that moment, a goddess spirit will enter you. You will be both virginal and pure, but also a goddess, mature and ripe. And as a goddess, your task is simply to be adored. To be touched and worshiped and given pleasure. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.”

And then he did it. He pressed his mouth to hers. He touched his tongue to the seam of her lips, stroking them open slowly, then invading her more fully. And as his
tongue thrust into her, she felt something else happen. Expanding in a wave of delight, she became a woman in the body of a young girl. She was powerful, she was eternal, and she was manifested on earth so that the humans could worship her.

He ended the kiss. The transformation was complete. She arched her neck and closed her eyes in total relaxation.

“Adore me,” she commanded. Her voice was deep with resonance, and it was all that was needed.

“Two acolytes apply themselves to your breasts.”

She felt them, a hand on each breast. One had more skill than the other, but each manipulated and stroked her breasts with adequate attention. Then there was a change: a mouth on one breast, a hand still on the other as it twisted her nipple. The sensations were lovely, and every stroke, every caress was an act of worship which she accepted as her due.

She knew she was still bound, her hands down by her sides. It didn’t matter. She had no intention of moving. It was their worship of her and she would put no effort into directing it.

“They continue one at each breast, Nicky. Another strokes your neck and face. Kissing you sometimes. Caressing you at others. Do you feel it all?”

“Yes, high priest,” she answered. Her nipples still tingled, her breasts rose and fell with each caress. And now her face and neck felt sensations as well. A silky fabric brushed across her chest. Then fingers and lips. “Your worship is pleasing to me.”

“Excellent. But you deserve more.”

She did not bother to agree or disagree. He would perform as he willed.

“A line of men waits, praying for their turn to adore
you. They each want to give you pleasure, for that is their greatest joy. But I am the high priest, and only I am allowed to penetrate you.”

She didn’t answer beyond a flick of a single finger. She would allow his penetration.

“Your orgasms will begin the moment I enter you, but they will not end with me. When I am done, others will step to kiss you, caress you, to bring you to orgasm again and again because that is our greatest joy.” Then he paused, and she felt his hand stroke her thighs. “May I begin, goddess?”

“You may.”

He filled her. Thick and hot, his member entered her. She gloried in the exquisite hardness of him. She found pleasure in the repeated thrust of his bulk against her. And as he had predicted, the waves of pleasure began with his first stroke.

From her belly outward, the wave began. Pleasure like expanding ripples on a pond. The first was small, but each successive ripple grew in size and intensity. Soon he had built enough momentum for the wave to engulf her. She contracted with him—around him—opening only as he withdrew, tightening again when he thrust deep inside her.

A wave of ecstasy engulfed her, enveloping every part of her in an explosion of joy.

Another wave, another explosion. Someone screamed.

Her priest shuddered and released. She knew it in only a dim part of her awareness.

“Here are the others,” he rasped against her belly. “More and more, a line of hundreds of men come to adore you,” he said. “The first one is young and blond.
Ripped abs, wide shoulders and he says he has worshiped you all his life.”

She felt the boy put his mouth to her clit. She felt him stroke her to climax and she was pleased as the wave roared through her body. She knew she had given the boy such joy.

“The next man is large. A powerful man with a powerful body. He says you have brought his life meaning.”

This time the tongue thrusts were harsh against her sensitized clit. But she knew this was what he wanted, and she took his adoration as her due. She crested for him as well.

On and on it went, man after man with the high priest’s voice her only framework to wave after wave of worship. She lost all awareness of time. And in the end, her virgin body gave out.

She collapsed into exhaustion and the goddess was forced to depart. Her last words before she slipped away were to the high priest. “Next time,” she said, “the girl must be stronger. I would like you to have me twice.”