Blind Date 3

~That which is essential is invisible to the eye~

--Saint Exupery, The Little Prince

Marion strode into the lobby of the Hotel Regis wearing her knock off, gray, Armani business suit and carrying a brown, leather attache case. She tapped the gold, ornate bell on the reception desk smartly to draw the clerk's attention and asked if there were any messages for Marion Day. The clerk--bald, staid, wearing John Lennon glasses--went to check his message file and returned bearing an envelope with her name inscribed upon it.

As she walked toward an elevator, she peeled open the envelope with her thumbnail. Inside was a keycard with its room number.

She exited the elevator on the twentieth floor. Unobserved now, she walked, with a more relaxed gait, down the long, plush-carpeted hall. Its textured walls bore a design reminiscent of a vibrant fleurage by William Morris.

She stopped when she came to a door that bore the same number as the card, opened it at the electronic buzz and went inside. She snapped open her attache case on the bed and took out a leather harness with a bit-gag and metal tongue depressor; attached were a blindfold in the shape of a domino and a pair of hard-shelled sound mufflers. There were, also, two pair of shinny, chrome handcuffs and a blonde wig. She took the 'Do Not Disturb' sign and stuck the keycard to the back of it with tape that she had brought along. She hung it on the outside door knob, closed the door and locked it.

Quickly, she took off her clothes.

When she was naked she put on the wig and strapped the harness to her head. The metal bit grated between her teeth. The depressor clamped her tongue down firmly. She would be able to whimper, but speech would be impossible. She tightened the muffs over her ears; soft rubber caskets encircled the rims. All but the loudest of sounds would be blocked from her.

When she finished adjusting the muffs securely, the room suddenly took on an eerie silence. The whispering of the air-conditioner, which she had not noticed before, was now gone, but she could still feel its cooling breath on her naked flesh. The inner sounds of her own breathing became omnipresent. It was as if her head were stuck inside a giant shell.

She placed the keys to the cuffs on the nightstand next to the bed, then fixed the blindfold in place. She could no longer see or hear or speak.

Lastly, she clamped the handcuffs to her wrists and ankles: right wrist, right ankle; left wrist, left ankle.

She shivered. Already she could feel herself becoming wet. Her nipples were hard and her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow.

It was danger that excited her. The unknown. Placing herself utterly in the hands of strangers. Naked. Totally at their mercy. It was a thrill nothing else could come close to.

Now she waited. Naked prey for whoever entered.

* * * * *

Time seemed to stand still as if it were another sense being denied her. She hadn't been told how long she would have to wait. Anticipation was making her more aroused. The pull of the handcuffs on her wrists and ankles was becoming painful. Yet it was that pain, the reality of it, that she sought. If you cannot believe in your fantasy, it cannot excite. It takes pain to create the necessary illusion of reality.

She first became aware that someone else was in the room when she felt the bed being jarred.

Her heart went pitapat. She was conscious of her vulnerability--excitingly so. Her legs were spread. Her shaved center was fully exposed, fully accessible.

A finger poked her head. Slowly it traced a line across the perimeter of her upper lip, then moved down to encircle the thicker, lower lip. A hand cupped her right breast and squeezed it. The tips of a thumb and finger pinched her nipple like a caliper. Softly--then hard. She whimpered at the pain. The hand moved to her other tit and squeezed it, also. Her left nipple was pinched even harder. She tried to turn away, but the hand pressed against her chest was too strong.

She groaned deeply.

The hand moved down her firm, trembling belly. Giving it some taunting, little pats. A wet finger tip prodded her navel, making a fucking motion. It moved farther down to within an inch of her slit, paused, made a right-angled turn and veered off to her left. She felt two fingers points being walked up the soft inside of her thigh. It was as if a Lilliputian were out for a walkabout on her naked body and she were a Lady Gulliver.

The walking fingers changed into a warm palm which rested for a moment on the cap of her knee, then slid back down her smooth, taut thigh and cupped her cunt like a cod piece. A finger teased the swollen, tender lips of her labia. It moved into her slit. She could feel her wetness. She trembled uncontrollably as the finger became two and began pushing into her cunt. They entered her easily. They fucked her; slowly at first, in and out, then faster. She hunched her ass up meeting their thrusts with her own. The fingers sank deeply within her and began a rapid, whipping motion from side to side. The thumb was angled up so that it stubbed against her engorged clit, masturbating her into an ass-writhing frenzy.

Just as she was on the verge of cumming, the fingers withdrew from her cunt. For several agonizing minutes she was left unmolested, heart pounding. Then she felt the side of the bed depress as a heavy weight settled on it. There were several jarring bounces, then she felt hands on her knees, weight being balanced; hairy thighs brushed against the insides of her smooth legs, as the man positioned himself to fuck her.

He forced her knees painfully up to her tits. The head of his cock wobbled up and down the furrow of her wet slit until it found her hole and entered with a deft shove. Broken guttural sounds vibrated around in her throat, she tensed with lurid anticipation as his thick shaft slid into her, splitting her cunt wide. He thrusts were hard, deliberately cruel. She clamped her teeth against the bit, snarling as a sharp stab of pain pierced her to the core. She could feel the cock throbbing and swelling deep within her. She shuddered.

While he kept his cock balls-deep in her cunt, he mouthed first one tit then the other; licking, biting and sucking on the nipples until they felt as large and as hard as thimbles. He gripped them between his teeth, tugging on them, stretching them, then letting them snap back. He pulled his cock out leaving just the head in, then thrust it back into her, faster and harder.

Tingling sensations coursed throughout her body, building in frequency and intensity...until...she exploded in a hot, raging ecstasy.

Dazed by a wanton heat, she felt him stretch his arm out, as if he were reaching for something, then there was a sudden, burning sting across her left breast. He covered the sting with his mouth and began sucking greedily. At the same time, his body tensed, and he rammed his cock deep into her. He held it in tight while his body quivered and jerked with spasms.

Time passed.

Finally, he raised himself, slowly pulling his cock out.

The bed heaved, like a small boat, as he got off.

She estimated that another thirty minutes passed before he removed the handcuffs. She stretched her cramped legs out slowly trying to ease the pain. Her numb feet and hands radiated pinpoints of fire as blood began to rush back into them.

He had, no doubt, showered and dressed while she had remained awkwardly and painfully bound. She could smell the sweet scent of lilac soap about him.

The prearranged instructions were to wait ten minutes after being uncuffed before taking off the harness. She waited, since her fingers were too numb to use anyway. When she did take the harness off, she saw a three inch slash across her left breast. It wasn't deep and would heal quickly, but it had bled enough to stain the bed cover and leave red traces on her firm flesh.

There were teeth marks where he had sucked her blood.

There were several, crisp, one-hundred dollar bills on the nightstand.

* * *

When Arthur Day got home that evening, he smelled blueberry muffins baking in the oven. Little Suzy was helping her mommy set the table.

He stood behind Marion as she grated carrots at the sink and kissed her softly on the nape of her neck.

"How did it go at work?" she asked, raising her hand to caress his cheek. She arched her back against him, then tensed. There was the sweet smell of lilac about him.

"Aw," he replied, squeezing her tightly around the waist, "same o same o."