Amanda

((For Dave... who has always been... Amanda's hero...))

He sat there in that chair, a small black desk chair with wheels, his eyes glued to the screen before him. She couldn't see any pictures on the desktop, any movies streaming in through the media player. There was just an opened Internet Explorer... and another, smaller window. It looked like a messaging program.

Yes, that's what it was, because as she looked on, the little screen made a sound, then another, and another... bleeping at him whenever the person on the other end sent a message. His eyes were glued to that dialogue. And it wouldn't be odd... he was

always

glued to the computer.

What captured her attention though, was not the screen, or the neon glow it cast into the hallway... but

him

. His eyes were wide, unblinking. His feet were sprawled straight in front of him and he was slouched in his seat. Jeans were unzipped, boxers parted... his cock pulled loose from the folds.

He stroked himself slowly, taking the glistening drops of pre-cum from the tip and smoothing it downward over the full length. His hand worked without hurry, he seemed perfectly content to remain in this limbo state of arousal. She saw another message pop up and he groaned. It was a low sound, a desperate sound... one full of longing and raw, wild... animalism.

He raised his free hand and punched three keys on the keyboard before him. Then, the enter key. The little messenger beeped as his statement was sent out across the World Wide Web... to whoever waited for it on the other side. Instantaneously, there was a response.

She grew curious, completely obsessed in a matter of seconds. What was being written? Why? Why with someone so far away... when there were plenty of willing companions here?

His head fell back and his hand moved, squeezing, pushing the skin upward, then down. His fingers loosened then tightened and she could see the slickness of him, the slight wetness that he'd spread over himself. She started forward, walking into the room silently, nearly tiptoeing. His eyes were closed and his head was back, he groaned deep in his throat and gave his cock a few quick, jerking, beats with his hand. Then stopped... controlling himself... and opening his eyes.

And she was there.

He startled violently, his slouch straightening in an instant, his legs bending to push himself upward. He covered his erection with his hands and began frantically trying to shove it back inside of his jeans. His eyes were wide, his cheeks were flushed. She stayed him with her hand. A simple gesture and he stopped struggling, but did not relax. He sat there, looking for all the world as if he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar... so to speak.

She lifted her leg and perched on the edge of the desk, facing him. For long moments she just stared in his direction and then, slowly, she smiled. His shyness did not abate. His face just became more and more red. Then, she looked away, turning her attention to the glowing computer monitor where another message popped up on the screen.

She opened her mouth, and began to read...

"Kissing, lips crushing against yours, tongue twining... so violent that you cut my lip on your tooth... with your passion. My mouth is wet, it tastes of honey, honey and candy... sweet. Wet.. and sweet..."

She heard him bite back a groan, but whether it was born of desire or embarrassment, she wasn't sure. His eyes were riveted to the screen, he looked mortified, not ashamed to be doing this... just blushing, stammering, afraid that she would cast judgement upon him for it.

The room was completely dark but for the light coming from the screen. In his eyes... it was a beacon, calling him forward and making him a slave to its siren song. He was powerless to resist its call, powerless... because

she

was on the other end.

Not the she that sat here now,

that

she watched him idly, pondering him. Then, as another note popped up on the screen, she read again...

"Kissing your neck, your chest... my hands smoothing over your thighs, teasing around you... but never touching

there

. Fingers dance across your belly, grip your hips, squeeze your backside... even going so far as to tease the wiry curls surrounding your cock..."

His hand tightened on his erection, he squeezed his eyes shut to dispel the powerful image those words created. The words spilling from the lips of this female, so close, was an addition... just something to make the game that much better. His hand loosened somewhat and he relaxed in the chair. His eyes opened and he looked up at the girl who sat up on the desk... she kept reading.

"Small kisses to the tip of your shaft, tiny licks, taking up the little drops of pre-cum that gather there... tasting you. I want to taste you. I want you... want to... drink you. Salt and sweat, my mouth closes around your cock, sucking upon the head, licking the flavor of you... from you..."

Her voice cut through the silence of the dark like a knife through warm butter. Deep and husky, and simultaneously curious... she'd come here to see. Had needed to see. He closed his eyes and for a few moments allowed himself to pretend, allowed himself to play like it was her... here... near him, saying these things to him.

"The taste of you, like a drug... sultry, earthy, rich. My tongue touches you... God, so good... I want you. Want to fuck you... right... now. And yet, I want to keep tasting, keep taking... drinking..."

A moment's pause, then another beep.

"I've tied you. With silk scarves... to the bed. Your hands are fastened tightly to the bars of the headboard... you wear my blindfold. Remember? The black one... with the silver paint?"

He lifted one hand from his crotch and, once again, typed in three letters... then hit the enter key.

Yes...

His note popped up on the screen. She eyed him incredulously. What black blindfold? He –knew- this girl? Her eyes turned back to the screen as a new message popped up... she read it aloud.

"Yes... good. You remember. You strain against the bonds, pulling tight, but the bed is made of iron and you cannot get free. I've tied you too tightly... for escape... and so... you are mine. Mine... mine... my hands have free reign over the geography of your flesh, and so I touch you, running my hands through your hair, over your face, chest, belly..."

He reached up again, and punched in four letters this time, italicizing them for effect.

M-i-n-e...

His hand had begun to stroke again, slowly moving up and down the length of his shaft. Despite the fact that someone sat not four feet away. She watched him, her mouth watering... the screen beeped again.

"No, mine... this time... mine. I throw a leg over you and you strain, pull against the scarves that hold you... to no avail. I laugh, that 'Devil made me do it' laugh that you love... and I know... that right now... you can see it. I. Want. You. I want to fuck you. Hard, right now... if you were here..."

"Oh, god... stop.." He groaned roughly and she ceased her reading. He looked desperate, flushed, completely aroused. His hand paused at the base of his cock and he watched her, his eyes drugged, his mouth open around words that wouldn't come forth.

She looked at his shaft and noted its length. Average, not porno-movie huge... but spectacular in its rigidity, it's arousal... amazing in its complete and utter... hardness. She reached out to touch him and he wheeled the chair back sharply.

"No," he gritted the words out and she withdrew her hand. "Don't touch me... just... keep reading..."

And she understood, and was a bit more than slightly offended. He didn't want her... he wanted the girl on the other side of the screen, the girl who gave him pleasure through words. He refused her very real touch so that he could fantasize about one that wouldn't come.

"This is obsession... this is madness." She said to him harshly, then made to turn off the computer. Just as her finger touched the cool, plastic button that would wipe the messenger from the screen... his hand came out, grasping her wrist so tightly that she nearly screamed in pain. She looked to him again, his eyes weren't sane... they were mad. Insane, crazed with a need that she couldn't fulfill... because she wasn't the

one

... that he wanted.

"Yes." A pause, then louder. "Yes!" He growled at her, like an animal. "Maybe it is, maybe it's completely insane to want her this much... but I do... I want her, I want to fuck her, and if she were here I would be inside of her at this very moment. And... if you press that button... I will strangle you."

She jerked out of his grasp and he fell back in his seat. His erection still stood tall and he panted, sweating, lusting and in rut... his musk penetrated the room, sending the scent of sex to all corners. The screen beeped, the writer unaware of the battle ensuing.

She took her place on the desk again, but kept her distance too. Again... she read...

"I hover over you, the black curls at the juncture of my thighs tickling the head of your cock, but nothing more. Your hips strain upward, your eyes unseeing... you can only feel... feel and know with that animal instinct that you –want-... want me. Desperately. You touch me, your shaft parting the folds and searching, penetrating nothing... merely touching the very entrance of that... which you want. Need. Utterly and completely... Mine..."

She went silent, her cheeks flushed as she stopped reading. She looked again to him and saw that his eyes were closed, his hand still working. His rod was red, so red... as if he'd been holding back for too long. Swollen and needy, stiff...

Another message:

"Slowly, I slide down, atop you... slowly the head of your cock slips past my cunt lips... ticking me... into the scalding warmth. Wet... so wet... for you... You part me, stretch me, slip past my entrance and slowly slide, glide, glistening wet... into my body. And then you are there, lodged there, invading... filling a void that waits and weeps... until you return..."

Just a second between that note and the next. Her voice was shattered... broken... she was barely able to speak for the desire that had enraptured her. She watched him, she watched the screen... he watched nothing. His head thrown back, eyes closed, legs stretched in front, his hand moved faster, bobbing up and down, slick. Every now and again he'd slow up, squeeze tightly, and suck in a ragged breath through his clenched teeth...

"I press against you, not pulling back, but keeping you there inside me, keeping you deep... so deep that you press against that spot... that little place inside that drives me... wild... wild... for you. Hips moving back and forth, grinding, pushing myself against you... And still... you pull. Your muscles bunch and your body tenses as you try to rip free of the confines. I lean down, splaying myself across your chest, breast to breast... and kiss you. My tongue reaches out, wetting your bottom lip, your tongue searches for it, aching for some dominant contact... but I give you none. My teeth close, nipping at your bottom lip, dragging it away for a second... then letting it go. I kiss you violently then, hard... just as you are hard within me... God, so deep... within me... My lips crush yours and you thrust your tongue inside my mouth. You're hot... scalding... your head lifts from the pillow and follows me as I pull away... Instinct is telling you that this is wrong... that –you- should dominate. That I am yours... but no... you are –mine-. And I take you... take... you..."

She was wet, the thick cream of her passion slid past her labia lips and the crotch of her flannel pajama pants became hot, moist. She clenched her hands over the edge of the desk and held it, with white-knuckled grip. She crossed her legs and squeezed them tightly together, denying that she felt anything in this moment, this supremely farcical scene. He didn't want her. Didn't even want her in lieu of the absence of this girl on the screen.

The screen beeped again.

"What?!" He gritted out, never opening his eyes. "What does she say? Tell me... tell me... now!"

He pumped his stiff cock with a fervency nearly matching violence. Stroking, stroking... his hips bucking up to meet the downward motion of each stroke.

"Sliding up, releasing you, the wet suction of my passage hugging you... and as I slide down again you groan, a small, choking, strangled sound that gurgles forth before you can stop it. The blindfold covers your eyes... darkness... complete and utter... darkness... I take you, rape you, and you love it. You love the way that your hands are bound, the cold, cold feeling as the tugging at the scarves cuts off the blood. Love the way your nipples pebble so hard that they feel like they're twisting themselves in knots... love the way I feel... holding you prisoner in the bed... in my body... my passage closing around you... tightening as I laugh... laugh... and drag my fingernails over your chest, down your belly... and through the curls of my bush. Fingers sinking in, fingers searching and finding... one on each side of you... as I slide up again..."

He wasn't watching her, he didn't care... he was lost now... and she was nearly crazed with stifled lust. Her hand slipped down past the elastic band of her pants to the bare flesh beneath. Slipping into her own wetness... feeling that heat, that need, that desire for something, for him. Slowly she stroked herself, lifting her left leg higher on the desk, propping it up, bent at the knee.

"I'll reach, and slide my fingers into the knots holding you. You'll stop straining, finally appeased... finally near release. You'll pause, breathing hard as my nipple touches your lips... you'll reach out with your tongue and lick it, then take it into your mouth... suckling. Drawing hard upon the small, brown nub of flesh. You'll lay there, compliant, submissive... as I untie the knots that hold you in place. I've pulled away, slipping off of your cock, leaving it to thrust impotently at the sky... leaving my mark on it... the glistening wetness... the sweetly slick surface that grows cool in the air. One knot, then another... your hands fall free... You lie there, wearing nothing but the blindfold... still..."

She watched him then, watched as his face contorted, turned from pleasure to an almost pain. He looked like he was struggling, straining toward climax. She reached out toward him, her fingers wet from her own cum. He sensed her somehow, felt her presence... it was that heightened hypersensitivity that felt her even before she touched him. His eyes, dark eyes, flashed open and he snarled at her.

"Don't... touch... me..." He was vicious, mean, so fiercely driven that she capitulated.

"You're insane." She wrenched her hand back before he could grab it again, hold it again, hurt her again.

"You have no right... to touch me." He growled, then, harshly. "Read! And keep your hands... to yourself."

She turned her face toward the screen again and he leaned back in the chair, his hawkish eyes upon her, like a vulture...

"For a moment you are still, laying there in silence. The sound of our breathing mingles and there is a tension... strung tight as a guitar string. Playing upon the chords of extreme lust... Breathing, breathing... in, out, you, me... until we're breathing together... And then I kiss you... and –snap-!!—the string breaks. Your hands come up and grasp me by the hair, holding my face to yours. What madness is this? I feel you growl into my mouth, yell into my mouth. Then I'm tumbling back under the force of your strength. You shove the blindfold from your eyes and glare at me, the spark of insanity prevalent within the haze of deep desire. There is no you left in you... it is only instinct, blasphemy, strength, violence... fever... fucking... pitch. You toss me like a rag doll, throwing me first onto my side, then forcing me onto my stomach. Your body comes down hard atop mine... you lay atop me, your breath hot in my ear... harsh, panting... I feel you hard, nestled between my thighs, pressed straight down my slit... fit... but not inside... not yet..."

God, she was insane with torment. And still he refused. What was this absolute obsession? What was this absolute and complete focus that he had... this single-minded lust for one, single.. person?

She watched him and wondered, wondered. He groaned, eyes closed again... he was blocking her out, casting her aside transforming her into a voice, a face, a figure... another body another time, another place. Another woman. It was the feminine notes, the grate of her voice, the tones that his imagination... just couldn't match. He wanted her for that and only that... nothing else. He was using her... even if he refused to touch her. She smiled, sardonically... almost viciously. And spoke... as the computer beeped again.

" Your words are harsh in my ear... crazed. 'Tease, fucking cocktease. Take and take and want and taunt... keep me here... tied to the bed. Tease.. fucking... tease.' And I can barely breathe... your weight crushes me but I don't protest. Your fingertips dig into my arms, tight, so tight... bruises... yes... bruises. You know how I love them. 'Bitch.

Mine! ... you are Mine!

Don't forget for a moment. You are always mine... I'll take you when I please, leave you when I please... I am the Master here. Say it!' And then I have to... I don't cry, I don't feign weakness... I speak it bluntly, correctly... and you know it's true. You've marked me... again and again, a permanent imprint on my soul. And then you take me... tearing into me from behind... sliding up into my body. Wrath. Wrath. Lust... Glutton... 'Prideful Bitch' you say... 'Greedy Bastard' Is my response before you thrust again, cramming yourself into me..."

"Envy..." she heard him say harshly in the darkness and she pulled her eyes away from the screen to look at him again. His hands were on the arms of the chair, his cock pointed straight in the air. So. Damn. Hard. "Don't you envy me? Don't you envy this?" A sardonic laugh "You do... you envy her... because you are –not- her... never... her..." He laughed, harsh, mean. "Never..."

She stared, mouth open. She swallowed thickly and was baffled. Yes. Envy. She felt envy. And anger...

"Take me." She pleaded.

"No," He growled. "I don't... want you." Almost a snarl. "Read!"

"Your arms wrap around me, pressed against the bed. One crosses over my chest, grasping me by the shoulder and holding me close to you. The other snakes across my waist... also holding. You fit yourself into me... grind your hips against my buttocks. Completely inside, you cannot withdraw and so you furrow deeper, and deeper... pushing yourself in so far that I wince in pain, then shudder as new pleasure rips through me. So roughly, you just keep thrusting your hips forward... the tip of you thudding against the opening to my womb, still trying to go forward. Slowly, agonizingly... I've brought you to this state of torment and you... you feel the need for punishment. But slow, lazy... in no hurry to end it. Sloth. 'I'm going to come in you, and stay in you... and lay here atop you... trapped... for days if need be. Pretty little cocktease...' And you thrust further... impossibly far..."

"Constantly consuming," She heard him utter the words. His hand worked again, pumping, pumping, listening... he seemed lost then... far away from where her thoughts ran. She watched him as he spoke... he didn't even seem to realize that he was uttering words. "Conquer and... devour..." Lyrics, all too fitting...

"Drawing back, bouncing us both on the bed, using the sway of momentum to carry you up and down, knocking the breath from my lungs with each thrust. Slap, slap of our flesh... you pant, your breath hot and harsh in my ear. There is no you left in you... Just the animal, the instinct, the vengeance repaid in full... for the torment I'd inflicted. And I say: "Come for me... Come...

for

me..."