Wilder's Fantasies (4 page)

In time with Marcelo’s powerful thrusts, Angel lapped at her. The young man's breathing picked up speed, his tongue strokes erratic. Fiona tugged against her restraints. She longed to touch the him, feel the smoothness of his skin, taste her juices on his lips. As she neared coming, she uttered his name. Angel worked his mouth with greater ardor, but Marcelo grasped the man's hair and pulled his head back.

“Not yet,” he admonished, withdrawing his cock, and pushed his servant onto the bed to kneel before her.

Marcelo untied her arms to reposition her on her side and secured the bindings once again to the post. He studied his two lovers as if to calculate the best position for maximum enjoyment. Decision made, Marcelo unlatched the bar between her legs, cast it aside and climbed onto the bed behind her. Supporting her top leg, he wrapped it around his waist, his cock nestled against her ass.

Silent permission given to Angel, the young man moved forward, straddled her leg that rested against the bed, rubbing his shaft between her thighs. Excitement drew his tongue across his lips, but he held back. The heat of his cock on the cusp of entering her drew more heat into her already engorged cunt. And still, Angel waited.

A nod from his master and Angel pushed himself into Fiona. An involuntary shudder darted through her. Marcelo watched his lovers, eyes seeming to feast on Angel's every thrust and Fiona's gasps. Marcelo's fingers toyed with the juices that wet her pussy, pushing two fingers into her ass. Her yelp served only to spur on both men. Angel arched his back, driving his full length into her.

“You can take it,
preciosa
?” Marcelo asked.

She nodded, lips tingling, unable to form meaningful words. Beads of sweat broke out along her forehead and neck at the pain—and pleasure—of being stretched beyond capacity. And there was more to come.

Once her body relaxed against Marcelo's fingers, he slid them out and slipped the head of his cock into her ass. Again, she let out a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan. Her teeth ground together and she struggled to control her panting breath. Angel smiled down at her and ran his hands over the curves of her breasts and hips. Inch by inch, Marcelo pushed forward until his pelvis sat flush against her ass. He grabbed Angel by the neck and drew him into a savage kiss. A fresh surge of arousal pulsated through Fiona's body. At the sight of Marcelo in command of the situation, complete control as usual, her inner walls contracted, gripping the two cocks that filled her.

Marcelo broke away from the young man with a laugh. “
Angelito
, I think our beautiful vessel has waited as long as she can bear.”

“May I?” The young man's voice wavered.

“As long as she takes her pleasure first.”

They moved together, stroking deep inside her. Angel picked up speed, but immediately slowed, straining to control himself. His torso brushed against her clit with every upward thrust. His eyes pleaded with her; he needed to come as badly as she did.

She longed to please Angel, for him to fill her with his hot, sticky cum. And Marcelo, would he unload in her ass or would he pull out and shoot ropes of semen across her back? How sweet it would be to take all they both had to give, their scents mingling on her skin. Her pussy contracted at the thought. Raking her teeth over her lips, she whimpered. Completely at the mercy of her lovers, she prayed for release.

Marcelo adjusted his grip on her leg, still wrapped around his waist, shifting her body weight backward so that her ass rested against his lap. He made only small movements, his cock deep within her. The position tightened the rope around her wrists, but the pain in her arms and strained back gave her the nudge she needed to reach a new level of ecstasy.

Angel drove himself into her; short, fast strokes urged her higher. Her body went rigid and jilted, the power of the climax almost too much to bear. She cried out, jerking against the ropes that held her arms immobile. Sobs clutched her throat riding on a wave of emotion she didn't fully understand.

“Yes,” Marcelo said. “That's it,
mi amor
. Let go.”

Rapture twisted Angel's features, sweat streaming down the young man's torso. His groans drowned out Fiona's whimpers. He bucked against her, his cock pumping spurts of cum into her spasming cunt. If she could’ve, she would’ve clung to him, melded her body against his, absorbed him through her skin. As it was, she watched tremors of pleasure play out in his rippling abdomen and heaving chest. Tears streamed down her face, her chest gripped with emotion.

Marcelo released her leg and withdrew from her, then he undid her bindings, allowing her and Angel to crumple against each other. Their bodies still conjoined and twitching with aftershocks, they huddled together―two submissives who had clearly pleased their master. Angel wiped away her tears and kissed her eyelids as she gulped for air.

“Shhh. Sh, sh.
No lloras
. Don't cry. You did beautifully,” the young man reassured her. “You
are
beautiful.”

Before she could reply, his soft lips covered hers, his tongue making lazy circles around her mouth. When the kiss receded, she asked, “Where's Chelo?”

“Washing up. He'll be back in a few minutes. Just rest for now.” He fold his arms around her. Surrounded by his heat and scent, she allowed herself to doze.

Gentle caresses woke her some time later; a warm, moist rag applied between her legs. She recognized Marcelo's touch before she opened her eyes. His amused face hovered over her.

“Have we worn you out?”

A half-hearted grin. “Yes, a bit.”

He passed a towel to Angel who set about cleaning himself. “But we have more games to play.”

She rubbed her wrists which were already marked with light bruises. “I don't know if I can take much more.”

“Don't worry. It's Angel's turn.”

Fiona raised herself up onto her haunches and turned to the young man, whose shaft had already begun to stir. A playful exhilaration replaced her fatigue.

“I think she likes that idea.” Angel chuckled.

“Come here.” Marcelo wrapped his arms around her, nipping at her lips. She kissed her way down to his stiffening cock and enveloped it with her mouth. An inhalation hissed through Marcelo's clenched teeth.

“That's enough,
preciosa
. Just a taste.” He backed away from her. “But make sure you get
Angelito
good and wet.”

She turned her attention to the young man, licking and sucking at him while Marcelo tied each of Angel's limbs to the bed posts.

“Straddle him,” Marcelo ordered.

One more swipe with her tongue, and Fiona did as instructed. Positioning Angel between her legs, she moved to take him in, but Marcelo stopped her. Waggling finger a finger, he silently admonished,
Not yet
.

Aching with renewed need, she rubbed her wet slit against Angel's throbbing erection.

Marcelo climbed onto the bed and mounted the young man's chest. He traced Angel's lips with the head of his cock, leaving a glistening trail of pre-cum in its wake. Angel licked at his master, then seemed to swallow the entire shaft. Marcelo groaned and his body tensed. Fiona leaned forward to watch the two men, gripping Marcelo's shoulders. His head lolled back, lips pressed to her cheek and ear.

“Put him inside you, now, but don't let him come.”

“How do I do that?”

“Feel the way he tenses and bucks. Grip his cock with your inner walls, if it gets harder or twitches, stop moving.
Don't
let him come.”

She pushed herself back, sinking all of Angel's shaft inside and adjusted her position so she still had a view over Marcelo's shoulder. The dom drove his mushroomed head farther into Angel's throat, pushing deeper through a series of gags. A lift of the young man's head allowed Angel take in all of his master's shaft without choking; he held his abs and legs tense, a masterpiece of strength.

Marcelo grasped the headboard with one hand, the other under Angel's neck. Fiona was surprised to find herself enjoying the way Marcelo brutally pounded into the other man's mouth and throat. Angel timed his breathing with his master's strokes, muscles quivering, but he didn't dare relax his pose. A guttural exhalation announced Marcelo's impending orgasm. He pulled his cock from Angel's mouth except for the very tip. Spurts of semen oozed down the young man's lips and chin as he lapped at it, gulping down his master's cum.

Unable to wait any longer, Fiona tucked her feet beneath her so that she crouched on Angel's lap and began to ride him. Marcelo moved aside, taking his place by the side of the bed and watched her satisfy herself.

Angel bucked beneath her, clearly losing control of his orgasm. She knew she should stop as her master had instructed, but she didn’t. She rode his slick shaft until a climax racked her body. Over and over, her pussy contracted, milking Angel’s cock. Her own juices spilled out in a rush of cream; she gasped, the release even sweeter than the first time. With a series of shivers, moans, and sighs, she slumped against Angel, exhausted. Marcelo stroked her hair until her body quieted.

She felt Marcelo moving around the bed, unfastening Angel's bindings. As if the young man knew what came next, he withdrew, settling her onto the bed beside him. Planting a lingering kiss on her cheek, he murmured, “I've enjoyed our time together, Fiona.”

“That will be all, Angel. You may go.” Marcelo handed him a terrycloth robe and a bag containing his clothes.

No argument and no hesitation, Angel climbed out of bed, wrapped himself in the robe, and padded out the door.

“But—” Fiona started to ask why.

Marcelo shook his head. “We've had our fun. Now, it's time for him to go.”

Edges of his lips turned down, he grasped a handful of hair, shoving her onto her belly. “And you weren’t supposed to let him come first.”

His hand crashed against her ass several times, the heat and pain of the spanking sending quakes of pleasure through her already sodden cunt.

When he finished her punishment, she murmured, “I’m sorry, Marcelo.”

Caressing her stinging buttocks, Marcelo chuckled. “What a lovely shade of red against your creamy skin.”

“Did you make him leave because of what I did?”

“No.”

Still a little doubtful, she turned to face him. “Did I please you otherwise?”

“
S
í, preciosa.
”

Studying his expression, she wondered if he knew how much she liked Angel, identified with the young man. Most likely he did. He always seemed to know what she was thinking.

“I didn’t want him to go so soon.”

“I know, but it’s better this way.” Marcelo reached for a washcloth.

Cleaning the last of other man's scent from her body, Marcelo murmured assurances to her. The attachment she felt for Angel was natural, he was the first to share in their bed, but he wouldn't be the last. When she asked if she would see him again, he replied only, “We'll see.”

Stripped

Fiona felt exposed already and she hadn't yet stepped on stage. The tiny schoolmarm costume left little to the imagination—tight black skirt, starched white shirt, dark hosiery held up with garters, and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses to complete the look. Her hair in a bun and minimal makeup fit the theme as well. Apprehension churned in her stomach. How had she let Marcelo talk her into this?

Not that she didn't trust her dom. He had, after all, awakened a side to Fiona she never knew existed. From uptight CPA to sensual submissive in a few wild months. And the man knew how to coax out of her every wish, every desire she harbored. He had been right about the enjoyment she would take from all their other activities, it followed he was right to push her into performing tonight.

Peeking around the curtain, she observed the other dancers. Since it was amateur night at the Platinum Gentleman's Club, none of the other performers were pros, but the girl Fiona had to follow was no amateur. She worked the pole in the center of the stage as though she owned it. Nerves clenched Fiona's abdomen again.

“Surely you aren't having second thoughts,” a baritone voice behind her asked. It was Marcelo's voice. Her pulse quickened as it always did when he spoke.

“Of course not,
Chelo
.” She turned to face him.

He held her at arms length, his eyes roaming over her, his gaze as warm as the palm of his hand. “Good. You look beautiful,
preciosa
. I can't wait to see how envious my friends will be when you bare that sexy body of yours.”

Fiona swallowed hard. True, in the past, Marcelo had brought others into their love games. She had gotten used to making a display of her body, but the audience in those instances were one, perhaps two onlookers at the most, not a room full of men, eyes focused solely on her. She wasn't sure she could dance for them much less... Pushing the thought from her mind, she turned back to her view around the heavy, black velvet curtain.

This time, instead of studying the dancer, she looked over the sea of faces in the crowd. Each one hard and masculine, each one with a message of desire written across it. They had settled themselves into cherry Queen Anne chairs around tables covered in white linens. Curling streams of smoke from only the finest cigars reached for the gilded ceiling. It all appeared so civilized, but Fiona was sure there was nothing civilized about the scenarios playing out inside these men's heads.

“I might be having a few second thoughts,” she murmured.

At this, Chelo laughed. “
Mi amor
, don't be silly. You will go out there and dance and show everyone how beautiful you are. They will love you—” his hand ran down the bodice of her blouse—“How could they not?”

He passed her a glass of champagne which she gulped down. The dancer's song was coming to an end. It was almost showtime for Fiona.

The half-naked red-head trotted off-stage, large, full breasts jiggling. She seemed not at all perturbed by the stares of the doms backstage with their submissives. Fiona noticed Marcelo didn't stare, his eyes, as always, remained on Fiona.

“Let's welcome next to our stage,” the announcers smooth, disembodied voice said, “
Marcelo's mistress
.”

“Como se dice?” Chelo asked. “Break a leg?”

“Right.” Fiona gave him a quick hug.

Her selected music,
Sexy Back
by Justin Timberlake, blared through the club's sound system. With measured, graceful steps, Fiona made her entrance, stage left. Catcalls and murmurs of approval went up from the audience. Luckily, the bright lights obscured their faces.

You can do this, Fiona assured herself. You've danced around in your undies at home to this song a thousand times.

Turning at center stage to face the crowd, her hand strayed to the buttons on her. She unfastened a couple, but then dropped to her knees. Not yet, they couldn't see the goodies yet. Fiona heard good-natured protests in reply. This was, after all, supposed to be a strip
tease
.

She hooked her leg around the pole and swung around it a couple times. Though, Marcelo had installed one in the playroom so she could practice, the pole still intimidated her. Abandoning it, she struck a pose and ripped off her tear-away skirt. The crowd cheered at the sight of her in a G-string and garter belt.

Spinning around, she dropped to her knees again and slid to the edge of the catwalk that jutted out from the middle of the stage. The song had neared its crescendo, time to turn up the heat a little more. She popped the remaining buttons on her blouse, took down her hair and shook out her hair. The glasses came off next.

So into the music and the high of whipping a room full of men into a frenzy, the cheers around her hardly registered. Fiona knew just what it was to be a repressed woman discarding the safety of her plain outward appearance. No longer interested in teasing, she ripped open the front panels of her leather bra and luxuriated in the air-conditioned coolness that moved over her nipples. After licking her fingers, she let them stray to the tight buds at the tip of each breast. Pleasure coursed through her bringing with it, wild abandon. Yes, she could finish this act.

She hopped onto her stiletto heels, crouching before the men now, legs spread wide so they could see her thong panties were indeed crotchless. The heat from the spotlight on her nether regions warmed them more.

The music transitioned to Enigma's
Sadeness, part one.
With the opening beat of the new song, she ran a hand over her bare breasts, down her legs and slipped a finger inside her cunt. The other hand plucked and rubbed her swollen clit.

Hands reached on stage, caressing her legs and ass. It was the only portion of the act during which the men were allowed to touch her. She sank onto her back, her own fingers working a quick rhythm to take her closer to climaxing.

Touches of all sorts surrounded her. Hands on her breasts, her thighs, some held her ankles apart so everyone could view her pleasuring herself. She felt vulnerable yet powerful at the same time. She was in control of all these men. They were dying to see her climax. She could make them wait as long as she wanted…except for the fact that she too longed for release.

Unbearable tension tugged at her core, her pussy swollen and soaking wet. A few more swirls of her forefinger against her clit and a massive orgasm broke free.

Her cries reverberated in her ears, she opened her eyes to see a mirror above her, her face contorted in ecstasy. She turned her head to the side, wanting to connect with someone, anyone. She needed to see the face of just one man who shared her right now.

To her surprise, she discovered Angel's sweet visage staring down at her. His hand cradled her neck. Acting on impulse, she lifted her torso and leaned into him, her mouth capturing his in a languid kiss. He sucked at her lips and tongue, feeding on the waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

As the climax quieted, she took in the taste of the young man with whom she had become enamored the first moment they met. Too soon his lips broke contact with hers.

Light and sound returned to with harsh reality. Her performance had ended. She rose to her feet and bowed deeply and exited to raucous applause, stage left.

Marcelo waited there for her. In his hand he held the collar.
The collar
.

“You understand what you did was wrong?” he asked, though this was no question. It was a statement of fact.

Fiona's gaze fell to the floor. She knew she shouldn't have kissed Angel, but she had gotten caught up in the moment. “Yes. I understand.”

Without further discourse, Fiona lowered her head and allowed Marcelo to fasten the thick metal collar around her neck. Giving her no time to dress herself, he gave a vicious jerk on the choke chain. She didn't resist. Whatever he was about to do to her was his right. She had misbehaved and it was time to take her punishment.

He led her to a private room at the back of the club. Onlookers leered at her naked body, but she did her best keep her eyes on the plush carpeting. She didn't want to incense Marcelo even more.

He opened the door to the room, pulled her inside, and locked the door behind them.

“Kneel,” he told her. Again, without objection, she dropped to her knees in front of him.

He took off his tie and blindfolded her. “You shouldn't have kissed him, Fiona.”

“I know, Marcelo, I'm sorry. I got caught up—”

“Don't make excuses.” He pulled on the chain, the links tightening around her throat.

“I'm sorry.”

“I believe you are, but still, you have to pay the consequences.”

“Yes, Marcelo.”

She heard the sound of metal against metal—he had clipped the chain to a anchor ring on the way. Hearing the rustle of his clothing, she could tell he was undressing. She could feel the warmth of his body as he moved around her. Anticipation mingled with a tinge of fear stiffened her body.

“Relax,
preciosa
. It will be better for you if you relax.”

Without warning, a searing pain felt as though it would split her apart. Though he had lubricated whatever massive object he put inside her, it was still almost too big to bear. She struggled to handle the agony.

Marcelo's cock rubbed against her backside.

“I can't.” She groaned.

Pulling her head back by her hair, he replied, “All you have to do is say the word. Say it, and this all ends. You know that.”

Fiona wouldn't give him the satisfaction. In all the time they had been pushing each other's limits, he had broken her only once. She had sworn to herself she would never again utter the safe word:
Strangelove
.

Her silence gave him implicit permission to do whatever he wanted. He shoved his slick erection into her backside. She cried out, panting through the worst of the pain. Between the huge shaft of the implement inside her cunt and Marcelo filling her ass, her legs trembled and buckled. His grip on her hair pulled her up to her knees again. She yelped, but her show of weakness brought no mercy.

With savage force, Marcelo drove himself into her, pulled out the length of his cock and then drove it into her again, all the while holding her head back. The chain stayed tight around her neck, almost to the point of choking her.

A little dizzy with pain, she panted, trying to control the adrenaline setting her body on fire. Little by little, she felt her body cope. She could take whatever he gave her. More than that―she
loved
it.

As the initial rush of agony receded her body responded. Pulse pounding between her thigh, ass and cunt both open and dripping wet, she longed to come.

“May I touch myself?” she asked.

“Yes, you may.” His voice grunted out in time with his thrusts.

She rubbed her clit and labia, marveling at how tightly they were stretched. Bucking against Marcelo’s pounding, she pinched and rolled her clitoris between her thumb and forefinger. Her whimpers of agony turned into moans of ecstasy. She embraced the pain he inflicted as part of the rapture they shared. Only he knew how to do this, only he held the key to unlock her body and soul.

The orgasm hit her without warning, erupting in her core and spreading like wildfire. The power of the climax ejected the dildo from her cunt, her own juices streaming down her legs. Sweet relief rushed through her as Marcelo shook, buried within her ass. Each twitch of his cock filled her with his cum until it leaked from her puckered hole.

He released her hair and allowed her to collapse forward. Fiona continued to stroke between her legs, tiny aftershocks sending shivers through her.

Marcelo leaned forward and kissed the back of her raw neck. “This body is mine and no one touches it without my permission,” he murmured in her ear. “Understand,
mi amor
?”

“Yes. I understand.” As she always had. She understood every inch of her body belonged to Marcelo. And Marcelo alone.