Carnivale 2

I must have dozed off. I awoke to warm, well oiled hands sliding up my back. The gentle pressure coaxed me into consciousness. I moaned softly, wanting nothing more than to drift back into darkness. But the scent of sweet almond oil kept me from sleep. They were strong hands, kneading my shoulders, then nape of my neck and down my back, warming me. I felt strangely groggy, as if...where am I? How long had I been sleeping? Whose hands were on my back? I was fully awake now, my mind racing as those hands moved languidly down my spine, describing slow circles. My arms stretched above my head, firmly bound to the bed's headboard. Pinned down on my stomach, I couldn't turn my head to see who was holding me down, though it wouldn't have mattered much if I could -- my eyes were covered by a silky blindfold. I tried to sit up, but a solid weight on the small of my back kept me down. My struggle elicited a soft laugh, masculine and confidant from the weight which was pressing down on me.

"Shhhhh, babe, just enjoy yourself." His voice was deep and throaty, and barely more than a whisper.

I hadn't just fallen asleep, I must have passed out. But I couldn't quite put the pieces together, I felt hazy, as if I'd been drugged. I moaned again, louder, "Where am I?" But all I got in response was another soft laugh. I felt him lean over me, the radiating warmth of his chest barely an inch away from my naked back. He deftly slipped another silky scrap of fabric over my lips and tied it snuggly.

"No more questions, babe."

Two oiled hands once again pressed into my shoulders, and glided over my skin, pressing hard enough to make me moan again into the silk. He never stopped their fluid motion down my back, even as he eased himself lower, keeping my thighs pinned between his knees. Oversized knuckles dug into my backside, then the back of my thighs. He paused, squeezing his hands around my calves and I felt his lips brush the back of my thighs ever so lightly. As I started to remember the events that had led up to this he slipped his thumbs between my legs, just above my knees, pressing them into the tender skin there, kneading so slowly, inching up my inner thighs.

Scraps of memory floated up out of the void. I remembered dancing, spinning wildly, the grand ballroom filled with feathers and Carnival masks in every imaginable hue. Other dancers, laughing and whirling madly around us, me in a viridian mask that matched my gown, richly embroidered with sequins and heavy costume jewelry. I remembered feeling weighed down by all the accessories, wishing I could shed my dress, thinking how much faster I could twirl with nothing on but my feathery mask. My partner's mask was deep purple, almost black and studded with silver sequins and crystal tears. There was no telling who was behind it, but I didn't care, thrilled by his skill on the floor, I'd felt feather-light in his arms, despite the weight of brocade and free despite the tight lacing of my stiffly boned corset The season was just beginning; it was the first night of the dances...

His hands slipped up my thighs until they cupped my cheeks. As he squeezed my behind, his thumbs pressed against the damp lips of my sex, slipping between them. The silk gag muffled my groan, half in protest and half in encouragement. I writhed beneath his strong hands, pressing myself harder against him. I couldn't help but want him, whoever he was.

"Not so fast, princess," came his whisper in my ear.

His weight lifted from me, momentarily freeing my legs which he'd kept pinned together. Before I could react, his hands were on my hips, turning me over until my back was pressed against satiny sheets. The night air felt cool against my naked breasts. I could feel the cord which bound my wrists to the headboard twisting with me. Still blindfolded, I couldn't see him. Then he was back over me, grabbing my ankles and spreading them wide, two well-muscled thighs pressed between my own. I gasped at his strength, struggling helplessly against him. He lifted me onto his lap, and ran his hands quickly up and down the tender skin of my inner thighs. I felt his throbbing cock pressing against my ass, his hard, naked stomach between my legs.

"I'm just getting started with you, babe," came his disembodied voice. I could hear his smile, wolfish and confidant. I strained against the gag, but managed nothing more than a muted "Mmmm!" Warm, fat droplets of oil splattered my chest, and drizzled slowly over my belly. The warm liquid pooled on my skin and ran languidly between my legs. His hands pressed my shoulders into the sheets, rolling over them. He grabbed my breasts and squeezed them, gently at first and then harder, making me cry out. I felt full lips against my neck, then his warm mouth was on my nipple, tongue teasing, sucking. His right hand stayed at my breast while his left slipped down, pausing to press against the soft swell of my belly, and then slipping between my legs. His deft fingers separated my swollen lips, and he eased one thick finger inside me. As he slipped a second finger inside me his mouth left my breast to whisper in my ear, "Yeah, you know you want it, don't you, my little whore." I moaned, louder, writhing against his fingers. "You want my cock inside you? Well I'm gonna fuck you, you little bitch, I'm gonna fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But first I'm gonna make you come."

He brushed a lock back from my neck and kissed me there. The gentle touch of his lips against my skin in sharp contrast to the words he'd just hissed in my ear. I was going crazy, incensed by the contrast of his gravelly whisper and the sensation of his fingers inside of me. His lips grazed my neck, slowly leaving a trail of kisses across my collar bone. His kisses traveled with an unendurable slowness over my body. Between my breasts, my stomach. His hands followed his mouth, caressing the curve of my waist and the swell of my hips, sliding down over the sharp angles of my hip bones and pressing my thighs apart. He paused, mid-kiss. Lips barely brushing my pelvis, teasing me. When he finally descended, every atom of my body felt the tip of his tongue; I knew no other sensation. His heavy hand left my thigh to once again explore my dripping pussy. He knew exactly what he was doing, forcing me to the very edge with his nimble tongue and thick fingers. He stopped abruptly just when I thought my world was about to explode and ripped the gag from my mouth, leaning over me. Hungry lips, slick and salty-sweet with my desire met mine. His tongue forced itself into my mouth. I felt consumed by him, my breath stolen, my will to resist him completely gone. I was his. His thigh between my legs ground into me with a delicious undulating pressure. I wanted him with a wild desperation, and he knew it. This stranger knew my struggling body better than I knew myself. I came against him like I never had before, the entire sum of my world reducing to an overwhelming wave of pleasure, warm and radiating out to every part of my being.