Author's Note - This is a short story featuring Scarlett, my Gio-stocking loving heroine.
If you want to read more of Scarlett's adventures, see "The Art of Seduction" and "Nylon Conquest, Ch. 02".
***
Him
What the fuck? Where am I? What the hell is going on?
Remember your training. Stick to the script. You learned from the best.
First: take inventory.
Heavy black hood over my head. Gagged. Sitting upright in a hard, armless chair. Tied to the bottom of the chair legs, at the ankles. Hands tied down at the top of the chair legs, at the wrists. Strap around my chest around the chair back. I test my bonds. No movement. Nada. I test the chair. Strong. Bolted to the floor. So I'm completely immobile. Professional job.
In other words Frank, you're fucked.
What's the last thing I remember? OK, I was in my hotel room, in Paris. Right. I'd just come back from a late dinner. Went to bed around 11:00. Alone.
How did they get me here without waking me up? What do they want?
I can guess.
A lot goes through your mind when you're helpless and at the mercy of someone who wants something from you.
How far will they take it to get what they want?
How much pain are they willing to inflict?
How long can I hold out?
The last question is the toughest. You weigh the price of not telling vs. the consequence of telling. Is my secret worth my life? How much pain is my secret worth?
They say torture is unreliable. They say a prisoner will say anything to make the pain stop. The trouble with that is, when they check your story, when they find out you've lied, well. That's when they really come at you.
The only thing lying does is buy you time. But the price of that time is...pain. Retribution.
I swallowed. It didn't help. My mouth is dry, dry, dry.
Calm down, Frank. Work the problem. You're smart. You can outwit them. Keep them guessing until the guys find me. The longer you hold out, the better chance you've got.
~~
Four Hours Later
~~
When are they going to make their first move? It's been what? Eight, ten hours? Fuck I'm sore.
What was that? A swishy sound. Like material sliding over material. Someone's in here with me. It almost sounds like...
...couldn't be.
The person steps towards me. I can't see a fucking thing through this hood.
Clack, swish. Clack, swish. Clack, swish. Clack, swish.
I can feel a presence next to me. I brace for the blow that's sure to come. I screw my eyes tight.
No fist to the side of the head. Not yet.
The presence stops right in front of me. Their breaths come slow, deep.
Then I get something. A smell. No. A
scent.
Not cologne. Sweet, not musky.
Perfume.
They say women are the worst. They say women take out all their frustrations on male captives. They say the women love to hurt you where it counts. That the women have no mercy.
They say in some countries they used to strip rapists naked and give him to the village women. They say the women revel in his screams.
My balls recede into my body.
Something touches the hood near my left cheek. Four sharp fingernails dance lightly on the material.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
The tapping stops. She draws her sharp claws along the hood, from my ear to my mouth.
Not painful. More, more, more...
...sensual.
Her scent grows more intense. It overwhelms my senses.
She's close.
Then, a whisper. Her lips are so close I can feel the material of my hood flutter around my ear as she speaks.
"Well, well, well," she says. "What have we here?"
Her voice is honeyed, rich, deep. Confident. She presses the flat of her hand to the side of my face.
"I'm going to tell you a little secret. Frank."
She knows my name. That tells me something. How can I use that?
"Franky, baby. Here's the thing. I don't care if you talk or not. It doesn't really matter to me. See Frank, I get paid whether you talk or not. Get how this works? It's the only type of job I ever take.
"Do you know why they hire me, Frank, even when I don't promise results? Do you, baby?"
That was a new one. I tried to think about that. It didn't make sense. No sense at all. Unless...
The fingers on my face begin to curl. Whatever she's planning for me, she's going to do it now.
The hood is ripped off my head. The light in the room is dim, so the adjustment isn't too bad. I blink rapidly to get my vision working again.
My vision.
It's filled with her. I can't see her face. Just her breasts. She's leaning in close. She's wearing a low-cut silk dress. Her breasts are right in my face.
Not just any breasts.
The most beautiful, firm, glorious pair of tits I've ever seen in my life. Two handfuls each.
Every time she takes in a breath, they come closer. Closer to my nose, my mouth.
The words
heaving, lusty, luxurious
, float over my brain.
Mmmmmm, nice.
Get it together Frank. She's still talking.
"Because baby, I always get results. My employers are always satisfied with my performance. Because I never, ever stop until my men are satisfied."
Those glorious breasts float away as she straightens up. She puts her foot on the chair between my legs. The pointed toe of her black mirror-finish high heels rests on my manhood. The heel hangs over the chair seat and points at the floor. I turn my head slightly to see. The stiletto comes to a point the size of an eraser head. Gotta be five inches long.
Even more interesting is her leg. Long, lean, sculpted. Her knee is even with my face. She's wearing fine, glossy stockings. I can just barely see the seam running up the back of her thigh, parallel to the floor. Her dress is cut high, really high so I can see the tops of her stockings. A garter peeks out above the silk slit of her dress.
Mmmmmmmmmmmm.
Careful Frank.
She clasps her hands together, interlacing her fingers around her knee. Her nails are long, ruby red, and glossy. She leans down so her face comes into my vision.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god.
Her
That was encouraging. I think he likes what he sees.
I look down at his crotch. I'm reminded of that old Mae West line.
Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?
Not hard enough. Not yet. I shift my gaze back to his face. He's breathing hard, but he's still defiant. I can see it in his eyes. He thinks he's going to win.
OK Scarlett. Time to see what he's made of.
That goes both ways.
I remember my Sun Tzu:
The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.
I straighten up and walk around behind him. I raise my leg and drape my thigh over his shoulder. My stiletto heel rests on his manhood. My fully-fashioned stocking rubs against his face. I love the way the garters pull on my Gio nylons. Gives me goose bumps.
He likes it too.
I bounce my leg a bit to give him a little swish of my inner thigh along his cheek. The stiletto heel of my Jimmy Choos digs into his manhood.
Nice.
The art of interrogation hinges on when to ask the question.
Not yet.
I lean down from behind him, into the ear opposite the one pressed into my thigh.
My lipstick is thick and sticky. And scarlet, of course. I place my lips on his ear and give him a little kiss. Let it linger. I let his ear canal feel the wetness of my narrow, curling tongue.
He stiffens some more.
Not yet.
I pull my leg off of him and stand behind his chair. His arms and legs are still nicely bound. I untie the stiff knot holding his gag. He spits it out.
Some people have no manners.
I lean back down and whisper into his ear.
"What's the fastest way you've ever cum, Frank?"
He went stiff.
Not the way you're thinking. His whole body.
He wasn't prepared for that one.
I amble around to face him, dragging my nails across his cheek.
"No answer? Come on, baby. Who's made you cum the fastest?"
I can see him thinking. He's actually thinking about it.
In a moment of inspiration, I sit in his lap and put an arm around his shoulder. Cross my legs so he sees the welts of my stockings.
Yeah, he looked. Of course he looked.
"OK, I get it," I say to him. I bring my mouth to the bridge of his nose. Fill his vision with my cocksucking lips. "You don't want to kiss and tell. I respect that. So, why don't you tell me how she did it? Hmmmmmm? That would be OK, wouldn't it?"
I lower my lips down to his, so he can almost taste them.
Not yet.
"Did she let you slide your throbbing, needy cock into her hot, wet cunt? Did she close her legs on your manhood and squeeze you, squeeeeeeze you so hard you just had to blast off inside her silky tunnel? Was that how?
"Come on, lover. Tell me how she did it.
"Did she put her soft, juicy lips over that big fat cock of yours and suck you off? Slide her hot, wet tongue around that soft little spot on your manhood? That sensitive little spot that makes you cum? Hmmmmmm? Is that how she got you off?"
Close.
"I get it. A virile guy like you loves a sexy woman's hot mouth all over his hard, needy cock, doesn't he? She knew exactly how to make you cum didn't she?
"Was she good? Did she do it just right for you? Did she lick your stiff rod up and down and around with her flexible, coiling tongue? Did she suck and suck and suck you with her full juicy lips? Hmmmmm?
"Or did she deep throat you? Ooooo, yes. Swallowed you whole, her huge, dark eyes holding your gaze while she swallowed, swallowed, swallowed, got those throat muscles working on your tender, pulsing shaft? Is that how she did it?"
I can see it in his eyes. The eyes have it.
"Yes. I see that now. That's exactly how you like it, isn't it lover? Hot, wet, and deep. Mmmmmm, makes me horny too, just thinking about that, and I don't even have a cock."
I see a little movement down there. Oh yes. He's listening all right. I give him a little pat, right on that iron rod in his pants.
Then I close in on his face. Our noses are just about touching. "But I do have a mouth."
Jackpot.
"Nice. Very, very nice. I'm jealous. She's a lucky girl. Or is she? Does she get that big fella regularly? Does she get to suck on you any time she wants? Or are you holding out on her?
"I know if I had regular cock like that, I'd slide it between my lips every chance I got. Mmmmm, I'm getting kinda horny now."
I bring my lips to his ear. "Wet. So wet. I'm soaking for you, Frank. Soaking wet.
"Come on, lover. Tell me her name. Who sucks your dick? Hmmmm? Does she listen to every little detail? Does she ask you so many questions about what you like? Hmmmm? Or does she just get right to it?
"I bet she's good. I bet she loves to suck you. I bet she can get you to blast off into her mouth so, soooo quickly, can't she? Or maybe she can hold you on the edge, right there on the edge for ever and ever and ever until you give her what she wants. Can she lover? I bet she's a sly one. You just never know how she's going to play it, do you?
"I think I understand you. When you fuck her, she's in control, isn't she? You like it when a woman takes control, don't you? And she knows what you want, doesn't she? She knows when you want a quickee. Just a nice quick fuck to get the edge off before you have to go see those big, bad men you work with. But she's a devil, that one. 'Cause that's when she holds you there. Forever and a day, your cock in her mouth, not letting you go.
She gets you into soooo much trouble, doesn't she? You have to go, you really, really have to go, but she just won't let you cum. Not until she says so. Up and down your shaft, she slides her gooey, wet lips. And it's oh so good, isn't it lover?
"So who is she? Hmmmm? Tell me, who she is. Who is the gorgeous little cum slut that gives you soooo much pleasure? Hmmmm?"
