Bound 44

The steel door locks behind us. We are at the top of a stairwell and she directs me to go first. She gestures with her eyes that I should lead, so I do as I am told and begin the descent into darkness. All I can hear is the sharp crack of our heels on the iron steps as we go down. My eyes are still adjusting to the light; it was only a moment ago the blindfold was removed, but I can make out the lights of the city reflecting on the glassy surface of the nearby Thames. We are in a central location but it is strangely quiet. This does little to unnerve me. In fact, the silence fuels my excitement further.

At the bottom of the stairwell it is almost perfect darkness. There is just a faint muted orange glow from the street lights above. The air is damp and chills the skin, but I am warm beneath my clothes. She touches my elbow with her elegantly gloved fingers and I walk forward as instructed. We are walking on flat paving stones toward a little door almost completely obscured in the darkness. There is a light breeze that seems to propel me toward it. I am compelled to turn around and ask to go home, to admit this was all a mistake, but I know that I have come too far now to leave. She reaches forward and reveals an electronic keypad on the wall beside the door. She presses a combination of digits and the door quietly slides open; and like something from a science fiction movie I am presented with the sight of a long corridor, dimly lit and scented with warm incense. I step forward and she follows. We are inside and without prompt the door closes. I am inside the womb of deprivation.

We walk along the smooth tiled floor and I am aware of a number of alcoves along the path. They are small and mostly in shadows cast by the flames of torches fastened to the stone walls. Inside them all are naked people indulging in sexual practices. All are masked and are strangers to each other. In the first alcove, a woman is knelt between the legs of another, her tongue planted between the open thighs of her partner; in the next, a woman is straddled on the lap of a large man who is kneading her buttocks as she bounces up and down. Then, two man are slowly masturbating each other. Finally, two men are caressing the intimate parts of a young woman as they stand. None of them seem aware of our presence. If they are, then they don't care. They are used to this, and it excites me.

In a short time we come to the end of the corridor. There is another door here, and she says, "In there." So again I do as I am told and I enter a small booth. Inside it is cool and clean. There is a little stool, a table for my clothes, and a full length mirror. I remove my jacket, then my shoes, and then I pause. I stare at myself in the mirror. I am so young. I have no make-up on and my hair is pulled back away from my face, yet I am still quite pretty. So why am I doing this? Why do I need this? I look at myself as though I am another person, a stranger to myself, and there is no judgment in my eyes. "Go on, " I seem to be saying. "Live." So I pull off my shirt, my shoes, unfasten my trousers, and fold them neatly on the small table. Then I slip off my panties, place them with the rest of my clothes, and reach around to unfasten my bra. I am naked. I check myself in the mirror again. My body is long and willowy, my tits large but still firm. There are tan lines on my hips, on my shoulders, and just above my ribcage but I think this looks sexy. The rest of me is tanned nicely. Even my ass is light brown. Then I glance at my pussy. It is waxed, but some hair remains. I think it looks neat and inviting. I am aware that only a brick wall is between myself and my companion. We have only been acquainted less than an hour. For a moment I feel foolish and scared but I cannot shake the excitement, the anticipation of the moment. Then she knocks at the door and asks if I am ready. So I slip on the robe and mask provided and step out of the booth through another door as instructed, and my life is changed forever.

I am at the precipice of small flight of stone steps that step down to a large circular room. All around the wall of this room I notice many other doors that must lead to booths such as mine. She is here, right in front of me, waiting. I know it is her, despite her mask, despite never having seen her face. When we met she approached from behind and put the blindfold on me so that throughout our journey I could not see her. Then on our arrival the blindfold was removed but she led from behind and I never once looked round to see her face. That was part of the arrangement. It is her scent, the shape of her body, tall and well defined, that I recognize. She too is in a gown and nothing else. Part of a shapely breast is exposed through the opening of her gown and I become moist between my legs. I am close enough to her to see a fine filament of hair upon her pale skin. I want to reach out and touch her but I resist. There is ample time for that I tell myself, and first I must let her guide me. Her face is almost touching mine. Her sweet breath brushes against my cheek as lightly as the wing of a butterfly. The beginnings of a smile appears on her painted lips, and then she steps aside and I am witness to a most beguilling spectacle.

There are bodies everywhere, all naked, in every position imaginable. One endless coupling. It is an orgy of unimaginable decadence. She takes my hand and we take cautious steps toward the writhing mass of human flesh. All I can see is openings, tongues, penises moving in and out, dozens of men and woman fucking and coming. Men with women, women with women, men with men. Threesomes, foursomes, men buggering men over women kissing, touching, men bending women in incredible positions, fucking buttocks, vagina's, every possible orifice. All naked. My head is filled with one endless moaning, the sound of pleasure in it's most basic form. Pillows and rugs adorn the floor on which the heaving bodies lie. I am quaking with expectation and fear equally.

She unties my robe, slips it off my shoulders, then guides me to an area of the room where we can lie amongst the grinding bodies. There is the scent of incense and, I think, opium. There are jars placed around the room from which people are inhaling a potent smoke.

She has removed her robe. Her hand is holding mine and she draws me to the floor, her face close to mine. I am trembling. She senses my trepidation and smiles. Amongst the scent of opium I now smell the odor of sex. Then she kisses me. She covers my mouth with her own full lips, her tongue undulating, and holds my head like a cup between her hands. It is an interminable kiss and I nearly lose consciousness. Then her mouth falls on my throat, at the beginning of my breasts, and her hands touch my mouth as if she were molding it over and over. I slowly lie back onto the rug, my mouth never closing, and then she is caressing me, feeling the richness of my hips, the fullness of my thighs. We move in entangled accord, moving very slowly, feeling breast against breast and belly against belly. She has sought a nipple with her lips, her fingers touch my clitoris and I produce a guttural moan, a moan of animal response. Her own nipples have hardened as she kisses my breasts. Then her hand passes around my buttocks and touches a hand that is neither her own, nor mine. It is another hand.

I open my eyes to see another woman crouched beside us. She has a voluptuous body with rich curves, soft, firm flesh smelling of sex. Her breasts are round and luxuriant, her sex hidden in shadow. Without invitation she is caressing my buttocks, her eyes fixed on mine. I want to tell her my response but she can read it in my face. She is beautiful, her eyes shining feverishly in the semi-darkness, and emits an atmosphere of the unknown, a mysterious charm that is transported through the sensuous strokes of her fingers stimulating the warm folds of my buttocks. Her own buttocks are full and round; perfect globes of meaty flesh. She places her face close to mine then kisses me whilst enjoying the shape of my buttocks with her hands, a finger inserted into the tight little aperture. My pleasure is expressed with melodious ripples in my voice and the girl kisses me hard, as though she can feel every contraction through the kiss.

My first lover is still placed between my parted legs, her sex glued to mine and thumping like a crazed animal. She is like a man in the frenzy before orgasm, soldered to my sex. I can feel my own pleasure rising but want to prolong it. My nipples are burning, seeking to be caressed, so I take the hand of the second girl and rub it against my pointed breasts. Her body is becoming restless, the kissing has become a torture. Her fingers are caressing my yielding flesh and I observe the quickening of her motions. As if in a dream my approach to orgasm is preciously sustained by her measured touch. It is if I have a million sexual openings, all equally sensitized but with the fluid of desire seeping along the shadow of my legs like some glorious restraint. I moan again and she bites into my flesh with little nibbling teeth, her light hair flying about in the frenzy.

Between my legs, the first woman is like a luxuriant goddess of abundance and my flesh is a bed of sensuality – every pore and curve. I am a whore, an animal. Hands are grasping my body. My flesh is throbbing and heaving, saturated with moisture around the hollows of my breasts. Around my violin-shaped hips her hands are descending and ascending, her tongue stabbing between my legs into far reaching nooks that stir the nerves of my sex. I moan and she too bites my flesh, as if to arouse a greater moan, then places her agile tongue on my clitoris where the moisture is creating little sounds like rain between the kisses. The second girl is biting me still, her finger touching my anus as firm and commanding as a penis between the voluptuous layers of my buttocks. My body is vibrant and shaking, at the pinnacle of pleasure, but she is impatient and is exhaling a sensual aura that gives me a moment of jealousy. She is so sexual and full-blooded that any man or woman would have been overcome, and I feel the urge to taste her. As if she can read my mind she becomes more aggressive, throwing her leg across my shoulder, and I am kissing her between the legs. Now and then she jerks away from my kisses as if they are stinging her, but my tongue, as hard as a man's sex, searches for her and finds her moist and wanting. She is halfway on the peak of an excruciating sensation, half crazed, and bares her teeth as if to bite the one who is tantalizing her.

The first girl is still between my spread legs, her tongue and fingers prying into my back and front, and I can feel the moisture along my legs. Then I feel her raise an arm and she places her hand under the second girl, a hand she can rub against. She is intent on drawing the ultimate sensation from us both. But the girl has stopped moving. She stands up, and the hand of the first girl pursues her. I sense the second girl wants to throw herself on the hand until it makes her come, but she also wants too prolong her pleasure. Now the first girl is standing behind her, panting. She is brushing her sexual hair against her buttocks, rubbing against her, sliding up and down slowly. She wants the second girl to turn around, to feel this friction against her breasts, sex and belly. The first girl has been seduced by the new arrival's sexual aura, and her hands are everywhere. Her nails dig into the softest part of the dusky beauty's shoulder, between her breast and underarm. It hurts her, but it is a delicious pain, and her body burns so hot that she must fear that one more touch will set off the explosion, for they separate and fall onto the rug.

We have ceased touching and are looking at each other, admiring the disorder of our love-making and the beauty of our bodies glistening with moisture. I glance at the second girl and follow every contour. She has slender, polished legs that gleam, and a delightful incurving back with dimples at the bottom of her spine. Her sexual secrets are hidden by her hand. She is touching herself as she looks at the first girl and I, filling herself with languor with incisive hands, and is daring us to touch her voluptuous body. I reach out to touch her soft, downy flesh, and with each caress I give her, the first girl gives to me. We touch each other and cease to become three bodies; we are one body of yielding flesh, our fingers finding an opening, a nipple, a clitoris with every touch.

Then my two lovers attack me, unable to keep their hands off me. I am surrounded, enveloped, covered, licked, kissed, bitten, rolled again on the rug, tormented by the hands and tongues of my lovers. Now I am begging to be satisfied. My legs are spread, and I feel the friction from their bodies and seek satisfaction from this. But they do not let me satisfy myself this way. With tongues and fingers they pleasure me, sometimes stopping to touch each other's tongues – my two lovers, mouth to mouth, tongues curled together over my spread legs. I raised my hips to recive a kiss that I hoped would end my suspense, but they have forgotten me. They are concentrating all their feelings in their tongues, flicking each other. I become impatient and begin to stroke myself, but then they push my hand away and fall on me. My orgasm came like an exqusite torment. With each spasm I moved as if I were being stabbed. I almost cried to have it end.

Over my prone body the two girls take up their tongue kissing again, hands drunkenly searching each other, penetrating everywhere, until the dusky one cried out. The first girl's fingers had found her rhythm, and the girl clings to her, waiting for the pleasure to burst, while her own hands seek to give her lover the same pleasure. They try to come in unison, but the dusky girl comes first, falling in a heap, detacthed from her lover's hand, struck down by the violence of her orgasm. The first girl falls beside her, offering her sex to the other girl's mouth. As the girl's pleasure grew fainter, rolling away and dying off, she gave her tongue to the first girl, flicking in the sex's mouth until the girl contracted and moaned. I lean forward and bit into her tender flesh. In the paroxysm of her pleasure, she does not feel my teeth buried there.

Half an hour later I am being driven away from this place of depravity and I never see either of the two women again.