Sophie's Choice

Most of the room is in shadow. In its centre, an aged wrought iron bed stands alone on the bare floor boards. Outside, the stifling heat of mid-afternoon, the sounds of traffic, of irate and overheated passers-by, the blinding brightness and the dust are all filtered from the room by a thin muslin curtain that falls from ceiling to floor, blowing into the room every now and then on the meagre summer breeze. Aside from the lace choker around her neck, she is unclothed, kneeling upright on the mattress facing the head.

She grips the heavy metal top rail of the bedstead with outstretched arms, the diffused light coming from the window highlighting a sheen of perspiration that coats the length of her back and the tautly clenched muscles of her thighs. She sweats from the stifling heat as well as from the intense and delicate balance of her body. The focus of her concentration is directly below the curve of her belly. The soft light picks up her changing muscle tone as she cautiously lowers and raises her lower body in rhythm to some distant music or slow beat. Beneath her, stretched out the entire length of the bed, lying face upwards, is a sturdily built male. Muscled arms either side of his head stretch up between the bed rails, to which his wrists are bound with ropes.

Her knees are spread awkwardly, placed either side of his biceps as she dictates the pace of her pleasure, ass undulating snakelike. She stares down at him with a vacant expression, without recognition, lost in a reverie. Releasing her grip on the rail with one hand, she places it on his soaking brow. Her fingers clutch at his dripping hair and this way she pulls his head up between her damp thighs.

Her hand moves down over his face, fingers trailing over the junction between their bodies that is his tongue, which slips pornographically in and out between the fleshy lips of her cunt. Manicured and immaculately painted nails on an elegant hand tease and pinch at her clit. The pads of her fingers pressing in a v shape either side of the swollen bud, while the middle finger, its nail occasionally flicking over the flesh, completes little circles, fast and slow, softly then more forcefully as she rides the wave of her climax. She opens her mouth slightly and from her throat comes a voiceless sound, accompanied by a flow of clear musky smelling liquid from between her legs.

Keeping one hand gripping the rail, she reaches the other back behind herself. Her hand slides over across his sweat drenched abdomen and clutches the base of his shaft. Silver painted nails scratch the length of the long penis as it bears her weight, fingers spreading over his swollen ball sac, then encircling him and pulling back up the entire length of his shaft. His face, smeared in a messy combination of sweat and her excretions carries an expression alternating between ecstasy and pain. As her nails rasp the delicate under side of his cock head she bends her head down next to his and whispers something to his ear, she does not kiss him. She continues to run her nails round and around, teasing and hurting him, but he makes no sound. Light suddenly pours into the room as the curtains billow on a gust, and from a passing coach, travellers catch a sudden glimpse of the lurid scene inside the room. A momentary flash to keep them occupied for the rest of a mundane journey on the dusty road to wherever. Ignoring this intimate exposure completely, she senses the male beneath her is close to ejaculating and, turning her head, her eyes search the shadows of the dim room.

Another man stands watching them, awaiting her signal. Her eyes flash inquisitively as she lifts her head to him. This man, who wears a sarong tied around his waist but is otherwise naked, reaches into the darkness and opens the door of a small refrigerator behind him. By the light of the frail bulb he searches the icebox and from it retrieves a small silver bowl. Closing the door, he carries the bowl over to the bed and standing close, offers the plate to her. She releases her grip on the cock and, ignoring the offering, reaches up to him.

Silver nails gleam brightly against the blacks' skin as she presses a hand against his chest. She draws her fingers lightly down over his torso to the top of the sarong knotted at his waist and stops there a moment. Leaving it fastened, her index finger trails downwards and teases the growing flesh beneath the thin material. A slight smile passes momentarily on her lips as the man beneath her continues, with mouth and tongue, his ministrations at her pussy. The other stands, regarding them emotionlessly. She reaches up again and picks something from the saucer he still holds before her.

In her hand appear a cluster of balls, an inch in diameter, made from ice, which are joined together in a tight loop by an elastic cord running through the centre of each sphere, a bracelet. Reaching back, she places it over the head of the cock of the man beneath her. He gasps as the frozen bracelet contracts and grips below the ridge of the glans. She leaves it there for a moment, measuring the look on his face, then slowly works it down the length of his cock until it stretches tightly over the stem. Ice cold droplets begin to run down over his scrotum. Raising herself from his face, she moves back and positions his cock at the opening of her sex, feeding it completely into her pussy, until the ice ring brushes against her clitoris. For the first time, a groan escapes her lips as she begins to fuck the rigid cock.

By movement, she measures the distance of the hot shaft and, lingering for a moment, fully impaled, she feels the cold shock of the ice hitting the lips of her sex . Beneath her, the male groans with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The freezing tightness of the snare constricting his cock keeps him from orgasm, preventing him from releasing himself into her. She comes once more like this, with her hands over the face of her lover, cunt stretched and plugged by the thick length. The shock of the ice meeting her clit sends her into ecstasy.

For several minutes after her climax she remains seated on the man, savouring the endorphin rush which travels down her spine to where his thick prick, still lodged in her vagina softens. The ice melts away, cooling the combined heat of their ardour.. The power of her complete satisfaction compared to his unfulfilled state of arousal excites and pleases her.

Once again, she looks over and nods to the man in waiting and again he reaches a hand into the refrigerator, reappearing holding a small bottle. She watches as his sturdy fingers twist the cork out with a small pop. She smiles and climbs from the bed to stand before the open window. The black man approaches her from behind, taking in her naked body. On the small silver tray he carries, a glass of the champagne, which he passes to her. On the other hand is a circular mirror, held flat. On it are two lines of fine white powder and a slender platinum cylinder.

Bending over slightly, breasts silhouetted in the soft light, and with the slight breeze cooling the sweat from her body, she inhales the cocaine. The man retreats, returning shortly with a large porcelain bowl. He dips a flannel he carries into the bowl of water and wipes the sweat from her body. She raises first one arm then the other above her head as she is washed from head to toe. Working his way up from her feet she opens her legs to allow him access to her sex. She turns and the wet cloth passes between the firm cheeks of her ass. She shudders slightly as the breeze touches and cools her. Her nipples become hard and as his hand passes over them she stares downward, fixated by the contrast of textures and colours of their respective skins. Her posture alters slightly, breasts raised in offering and he bends double to place the bowl on the bare floor, He straightens himself and faces her.

She draws a breath as she takes in his size, the latent strength of his shoulders, his slender hips and the defined line of muscle disappearing beneath the knot of the sarong. He unties the knot and the garment drops to the floor at his feet.

She reaches forward, eye-line level with his chest, fingernails lightly teasing his hardening organ. He is, of course, well hung. Looking briefly to the middle of the room she regards her previous lover without emotion as he lies watching, still bound to the bed. She lowers her eyes as he looks on. Her hand, seemingly tiny against the large cock it cradles, tugs the foreskin of the new cock back over the plum sized head, stretching it hard back to the thick base, where she spreads her nails to scratch lightly under his testicles. She pulls him closer, until their bodies are touching. He puts his arms around her, locking them beneath her ass. Lifting her clear of the floor, he carries her backwards until she feels the cool wall plaster against her back. She wraps her legs around his thighs, her nipples pressing hard into, then dragging against the coarse hair of his chest as he raises her up and holds her there a moment. Her pussy, hungry to be filled once more, moistens and prepares itself for his meat.

He enters her and her sex stretches to accommodate him. Gently, he lets her fall slightly and she is impaled, sandwiched between him and the wall. He fucks the woman slowly and steadily until her trembling legs lose their grip on his sweat coated skin. Slipping his hands down to hold her beneath her thighs, she is held fast. Pinned hard against the wall, she grapples with him, playing out some personal fantasy to which he knowingly responds. Her silver nails tear at him, leaving ugly red weals across his back and shoulders. She bites at his neck, which he tries to avert while maintaining the rhythm of his fucking.

She begins to cry out, her pussy leaking copious amounts of creamy fluid which run back between the crack of her ass, smearing the white wall behind her. He doesn't stop. His movement gets more brutal and machine like, ass pumping back, then forwards and upwards, each stroke pushing her hard and further up the wall. She starts to mew, then cry out louder in her climax, feeling this impossibly large cock expanding within her as it sprays jets of cum deep inside her raw cunt. She feels each spurt hit the soft walls of her vagina, eyes glazing over as she comes again, her orgasm overtaking her with the accompanying rush of the drugs and champagne to her head.

Later, after she has been washed again, they dress her in a smart summer trouser suit she selects from a wardrobe. She leaves the room, passing an envelope containing a few used bills to one of the men as he opens the door for her. "Here's a little something for your good work boys', 'Behave yourselves now', 'And make sure you clean and lock up." The only words spoken in the whole episode. She leaves the apartment and walks out into the late afternoon sun, heading down a couple of streets and into an imposing looking building. Her footsteps echo as she walks down a long marble floored corridor and into an adjoining office.

Passing a receptionist she stops momentarily, "Julie, would you please call my husband and tell him I'll be a little late, I forgot I had an afternoon sitting." She walks down a side corridor, through a set of heavy doors, which are opened to her by a burly security guard. Entering a large panelled room, a voice ... 'All rise for Judge Sophie Armstrong, this court is now in session'. She takes her position and looks over the defendant, a rough looking but handsome blonde man. Probably just in need of a little discipline and training she thinks, as a barely perceptible smile alights on her face and she feels a familiar tingling of her pussy, silver nails clicking on the heavy wooden podium.