Saturday Night
He took the final key from the lid of the trunk and dangled it teasingly in front of her face. The key to the lock of the last secret. He knew what was in the locker. The cabin's owner had been quite proud of this possession. The owner hadn't needed to explain its use to him. He already had known some of the history behind it. Certainly, it was something that she'd never tried. Something she would surely enjoy. Yet...
Yet, it wasn't what he wanted to do right this second. Right now, his perfect event would entail the two of them falling into bed together, limbs entwined, bodies slipping against each other, his manhood exploring the very comfortable environs of her womanhood. He wanted them to laze together, to slowly and deliberately mount the steppes toward a very enticing peak, tease and deny, tease and deny, both pushing the other to display their most cunning enticements and their most iron-clad willpower. Until at last one of them fell or leapt from the precipice, pulling the other down into a maelstrom of sexual pleasure.
That very compelling scenario wasn't going to take place anytime soon, of course. She was on the hunt, very close to revealing the final secret of the cabin. He doubted that anything would lead her from that path. And, truth be told, even if he were able to set her in another direction, she would no doubt spend some of that time wondering about the contents of the final locker. And allowing herself to be distracted from the pleasures at hand.
She'd told him of her resolve to remain nude for the rest of the evening. And though he hadn't explicitly agreed to do the same, he now found himself back out in the darkness without a stitch of clothing. And feeling, somewhat incongruously, a bit self-conscious about it. That was the human condition for you: sometimes proud, sometimes vain, never predictable.
He gave her the honor of unlocking the final locker. Inside was a large cardboard box, about two feet on each side. He smiled when he saw her look of consternation. She'd have to wait just a little bit more to see their latest surprise. He twisted the box out of the locker and indicated that she should bring the small toolbox that had been revealed. Then, with exaggerated care, they made their way back to the cabin, where he silently gave thanks that the door was not the self-locking sort. Huddling together for warmth, no matter how sexy the huddle, wasn't his idea of a fun night.
From the markings on the cover, it was clear that the box was designed to lift off the contents. He set it in the middle of the floor, ensuring that it was directly centered underneath the roof truss with the eye hooks in it. As he prepared to unveil it, he saw that someone had graciously hidden an electric outlet in the middle of the floor, precisely where it was needed. Their host had thought of everything.
Just to heighten the tension, he made a grand production of the unveiling. He lowered the lights. He moved the rugs. He fluffed a pillow and set it on the floor as a seat for her. And every time he moved past her, he caressed her. On the ass. On her chest. On the leg. On the shoulder. He smiled openly as he saw how exasperated she was becoming. Even as he knew that he'd probably pay for it somewhere down the line.
Finally, after he'd delayed as long as possible, he strode over and deliberately lifted the cover from the device. He could see the puzzlement in her eyes. He wasn't that surprised by her lack of recognition. She was, by her own admission, somewhat untutored in the many varieties of sex. Still, she'd indicated that her husband was somewhat fond of lesbian scenarios, and this device was certainly a favorite in the lesbian porn genre.
To all intents and purposes, it looked just like a barrel that had been split vertically, with the resultant flat portion resting on the cabin floor. About a third of the way from the front of the front rim, a small spike protruded from the top of the rounded crest. The sides of the half barrel were covered in padded velvet, with some areas showing signs of wear. A small electric cord extended from the rear, which he plugged into the cleverly concealed floor socket.
"It's a, it's a..." she began, the effort of finding the correct word causing her brow to furrow.
"Sybian," he finished, not sure if she had really known the name or was simply hoping that he would supply it. The next portion of its assembly would make its purpose abundantly clear, so he suggested that she bring the toolbox over. Deliberately he selected a T-shaped piece of rubber and attached it, stem-up, to the small spike. As he stepped away, she approached to examine the newest addition. It was, clearly, a smooth-sided dildo, about six inches in height and about two inches in circumference. The front of the base was molded into a small ridge, with nubs of rubber dotting the sides and top. She touched it tentatively, seemingly surprised at how rigid it was. He could tell that she'd surmised its full purpose by the way she tenderly ran her fingertip up and down the shaft, and then along the extended nubs.
While he attached a corded control box and other accoutrements, he explained that the sybian was actually a modern interpretation of a device that, in ancient times, had been reserved for the richest queens, princesses and nobility. It allowed them to, in the coarsest terms, get themselves off without another man or woman intruding upon their royal privacy. Those had been powered by all manner of levers, pedals, water power and other contraptions, usually driven by slaves behind a screen or wall. Said screen or wall probably didn't keep the servants from hearing their mistresses wails of pleasure. The modern version was a lot more powerful, and a lot less private.
With just a few seconds examination, he'd quickly figured out how each option worked. He explained that the one he'd attached would simply vibrate, at a pace set by the control box. The other accessory would gyrate in a circular motion, presumably stimulating a woman's g-spot. He could tell that she was taking it all in while also wondering how he knew so much about such a unique device. He smiled inwardly. Part of his knowledge came from a History Channel special on sex. The rest was just conclusions made by examining the pieces. Not that he was going to tell her that.
He glanced up at the cross beam and wondered whether to employ that twist to the proceedings. Once she sat astride the shaft, he could attach a rope to each wrist, then loop the ropes through the hooks in the beam. Simply by tying her arms up in the air, he would effectively bind her to the sybian's barrel, as it was almost impossible to rise from it without the use of one's hands. The thought of her, tied, stretched out, vulnerable and completely at his mercy made him lick his lips in anticipation. But it might scare her, too. And it was always something that he could introduce later. In fact, if he played it right, she'd probably beg for it.
He helped her mount it, smiling as he saw how easily the shaft slid inside her. She was wet with anticipation, and her face glowed brightly as she realized what he'd just deducted. He showed her the controls. One dial to control the vibration speed. Another to control revolution diameter or strength of penetration, if either of those accessories were attached. Single women who used a sybian found it much more satisfying than any vibrator, thanks to better stimulation and the feeling that they were having something done to them, rather than doing it themselves.
Couples used it for two main purposes. Sometimes a man wanted to watch his partner get off in the most ecstatic way possible. Other men used it as a form of control. As he explained all this, he took the controls back from her. Settling back, he smiled at the sight, her thin legs lustfully clamped on each side of her new mechanical lover, the rubber shaft deeply encased in her dripping cunt, her firm breasts already heaving in anticipation... and turned the controls to the third position.
Despite the warning, her legs convulsively tightened around the barrel of the device, in exactly the same worn spots she'd noticed earlier. For a brief moment she worried about how she must look, sluttily riding what amounted to an electric fuck machine. Then the thought was torn from her mind and replaced with the scintillating sensations buzzing up through her pussy and clit. And she'd only just started?
The sensation was curious and at the same time compelling. Like she was riding a man who was an impossibly enthusiastic lover. The shaft inside her wasn't just thrusting up and down; it was also vibrating back and forth. Most interesting were the nubs at the front. If she leaned just so, they would stimulate her clitoris at the perfect spot, just around it but never on it. And if she leaned back, the shaft would rub against her inner walls in a way that sometimes happened with a man, but not usually quite so dependably. Sometimes he would get it in just the right place, but then he'd move the wrong way and the ecstasy would be gone.
But with this, this, sybian thing, she controlled it all. Well, almost all, as her lover actually had the master controls. And he was doing his best to keep her on a roller coaster of pleasure, speeding it up, then dropping the pace whenever he noticed that she was getting too excited. She tried to keep her emotions to herself, but that just wasn't possible. It was as though she'd lost control of her muscles and voice and quite possibly her volition. She moaned every time he turned the control knob. Her legs kicked convulsively in response to his torturous manipulations. The only way she could stop it was to leap off, and she was never, ever going to do that.
