I'd been out for a nice leisurely bike ride and was passing through the Bronx in New York City when the accident occurred. Jasmine, a name that mirrored the scent of her luscious body, suddenly popped out of nowhere in front of me and I had no room to stop. Of course I ended up knocking her over as well as coming off of my bike injuring up both—luckily it was only slightly. I pulled her to her feet and in the process learned her name and I apologized profusely. My bicycle was damaged but not in such a way that I couldn't fix it with a few small tools.
Jasmine asked me if I needed any help.
"No, but my bike is another story. Do you have a small toolbox I could use to fix it," I asked tentatively.
"Well, aside from this incident, you seem harmless enough so I guess it is okay if you borrow some. Follow me," she said.
We arrived at her house a short time later. House, hell, she owned a fucking 10 story building and lived on the top 5 floors by herself. She rented the rest to tenants—very wealthy ones. As we rode the private elevator to her "construction" room it was then that she began messing with my mind.
I had both hands on my bike, not wanting to appear like trouble or as if I was coming on to her, but she had her hands on me. Or so I thought. The contact was so light as if to appear accidental.
Being the gentleman I was raised to be I said, and did, nothing at the time. I must have been totally insane, oblivious or dead because she continued to touch me, to try and insinuate herself into my thoughts. Her subtlety was wasted on me. It wasn't until we reached the floor she wanted to stop on that she threw herself against me hard, forcing me out of the elevator and then began taking liberties with me more than she already had.
What was I to do? Jasmine was a female—and a gorgeous one at that---and I'd been raised to never raise a hand to a woman.
Would I fight back were I not raised to never raise a hand to a woman? Hell no! Jasmine moved like a cat stalking its prey and a very sensual looking one she was indeed. Her long, flowing, ramrod straight, jet black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like Angel Falls. The predatory way she moved, the erotic swing of her hips almost hypnotic in nature, told me she was a woman used to getting what she wants and that she usually gets it without delay.
I followed her where she led me—seemingly unthinkingly—but in reality falling rather rapidly into subspace (something I learned about from her rather quickly). She did not make love to me at first but, rather, ravished my body solely thinking of her pleasure and her pleasure alone. By the time we came to her "playroom", very nice and completely soundproofed, I was completely in her thrall.
No vampire was ever as skilled at holding a victim in thrall as Miss Jasmine was. I simply lost myself just being near her.
Aside from the most beautiful flowing hair Jasmine also had a set of legs like a gymnast, a face like a model and the breasts of a goddess---Aphrodite. Miss Jasmine moved with the sinewy grace of a jungle cat and her focused gaze was just as intense. I was mesmerized by her simplest movement or statement.
As Mistress Jasmine pulled my attention to her I barely noticed as she removed my clothing and strapped me tightly to a large wall of Velcro. I faced into the wall of Velcro and the wall had strategically placed holes in it for my arms, feet, face and cock to go through it. Imagine the sensation, if you will, as my every nerve ending was stimulated simultaneously. The strap that she used to pin my genitals to the wall seemed to vibrate as well. My member engorged as the vibrations passed through it and the pressure of the straps became tighter and tighter.
I could not help but respond to her ministrations, especially after she blindfolded me and, then, after a period of adjustment, plugged my ears as well. One by one she shut down my senses. Sight, sound, even smell where shut down until all I was left with was taste and touch. Her moist pussy was suddenly thrust in my face and I, like a starving man in the desert, had a ravenous appetite. An appetite she worked her hardest to intensify.
Mistress Jasmine used her touch—light and arousing—to intensify everything I felt, everything I tasted, until I'd reached the point of nearing terminal orgasm. Not that she intended to let me actually reach it. With butterfly kisses and caresses just as light Mistress worked her way up my body taking in everything, missing nothing. As she worshipped, for lack of a better term, my feet each toe got its own amazing blowjob.
Next came my calves which she examined intensely. The muscles bunched and relaxed alternately as she worked my body better than any doctor ever could do or any massage therapist ever did. Her skin, soft as melted butter, moved non-stop creating fantasies within me.
My thighs received a similar treatment as Jasmine avoided my most sensitive of all spots. Close Mistress Jasmine came to my cock and balls—so close in fact her mere breath aroused me—but not, at this point, did she touch me with anything other than her warm moist breath.
My stomach, smooth-skinned and toned, felt her tongue caress its every nook and cranny. She especially loved the tremors she set off throughout me as she ate my bellybutton out as if it was a sweet cunt of a lover of hers. The thrashing she elicited would have been much greater were it not for the restraints holding me to the wall.
As she reached my nipples her teeth bit them lightly at first, then harder and harder as I became more and more aroused. The blood rushed immediately into them causing them to swell and tighten upon my chest. I roared, first with pain, then pleasure, as she placed clips upon each of them—clips that also had weights attached to them.
The cool metal of the weights bounced against me as I felt Mistress' hand begin to, for the first time since she put me up here, massage my shaved cock and balls. (I keep them that way because it is more comfortable when riding—cyclists, like Scotsman, don't wear anything beneath their clothing). Simultaneously Mistress was biting my neck and licking my earlobes as she massaged me.
Of course, as always, every time I approached the point of no return she backed off thus allowing my body to avoid that which was imminent. Panting, moaning, sighing I was doing all seemingly at once and my mind was beginning to confuse pleasure and pain with each other. The sensations were akin to the adrenaline rush an adrenaline junkie gets the first time he or she performs a HALO (High Altitude, Low Opening) parachute jump.
Jasmine worked her way around my body like a grandmaster chess player moves around a chessboard. Up and down, back and front, she moved constantly exciting me. Her hair, falling gently across my naked form, in a caress of its own, aroused me, as much, if not more, than her hands did. Silken tresses glided over my skin touching places her hands may not have been able to reach.
After working up one side of my body Mistress Jasmine reversed the process and went down the other side. Up till now I had been able to restrain my urgent needs but release was forthcoming. Unfortunately Mistress sensed it and, before I knew what was happening, something hard and made of heavy plastic was slapped into place over my rampaging member. This was followed shortly by something leather being tied around my very full balls thereby preventing me from making any mistakes—like ejaculating without permission.
Whatever it was that she put on my cock allowed me to lengthen but not to do much else. My girth expanded to fill the restraint she put me in but eventually that became uncomfortable yet somehow stimulating at the same time.
Eventually, though nowhere soon enough for my tastes, Mistress engulfed the head of my penis. As her tongue licked me like a cat licking milk from a bowl I moaned and thrashed in the nearest approximation of orgasm that I could reach—a dry cum, if you will. The sensation alone caused me to pass out. How long that was for I do not know. Time seemed to lose meaning after entering my current state.
