Bedded by Strangers: Fantasies Unleashed 2 Page 3

  One by one, they came toward me and kissed me lightly. Not exactly how you’d kiss a friend, but not intrusively either, and as they kissed me their erections brushed my body through the robe. The last man ran his hand down my front, and I felt the belt of my robe give way. He leaned back to look into my eyes through the crystal-encrusted openings of his deep purple mask. I nodded, giving him tacit permission.

  He pushed the robe off my shoulders and it pooled on the floor.

  I heard a sound from the corner and noticed one final man, sitting in a chair in the shadows, masked and fully clothed. An observer? Or maybe a treat for later?

  I could be creeped out by this, but I wasn’t. The idea of someone watching only heightened what I imagined might happen.

  A man with curly brown hair and a silver mask stepped forward and placed a blindfold over my eyes. I thought of objecting—I wasn’t sure whether I’d fully enjoyed seeing each man’s body yet—but as soon as my sense of sight was removed, the desire heightened between my legs. The anticipation, the uncertainty, the slight danger was almost more than I could bear.

  The fireplace heated the backs of my legs, and my nipples hardened in the slight breeze created as I sensed the men moving around me, murmuring more words of admiration. It was almost as if I could feel their gaze on my skin, raking across my body, devouring me with their eyes.

  Then came their hands, their lips, their tongues, starting slowly, until I couldn’t tell how many men were touching me at once. I quickly stopped counting. Multiple fingers and palms caressed my skin, mouths and lips sucked my nipples, hands and teeth deliciously tortured my breasts.

  The sensations, combined with the sounds of lust—theirs, mine—made me feel as if I was floating, someone else, someplace else, focused on nothing but sensory details as I let my body be explored, admired, aroused.

  Someone gently nudged my feet wider, and fingers stroked between my legs. A man held me from behind, his hands on my breasts and his cock pressing into the small of my back. From the front, someone’s finger probed inside me, then two, and by their slightly irregular rhythm I felt sure the fingers came from two separate men. A tongue found my clit, licking and teasing as fingers continued to plunge. It seemed as if the mouth and fingers were from three different men—they might be—and the idea pumped up my arousal.

  The man behind me continued to fondle my breasts, tweaking the nipples, squeezing hard. “I need to fuck you.” With his chest pressed against my back, his voice rumbled through me, although I could no longer be certain what was causing all the vibrations inside.

  He gently bent me forward as someone else guided my hands onto something firm—the back of one of the sofas? It didn’t matter. I was bent at the waist, legs spread, my hands braced, as a cock entered me from behind.

  My legs flexed and straightened, my body yielding to the unknown intruder whose hands held my hips, easing me into his strokes.

  Mouths closed around both of my nipples, and lips and teeth and tongues sucked and nipped and licked. Two men had to be kneeling on the floor between me and the sofa. A finger pressed against my clit, circling slowly, letting the thrusts from the man fucking me do all the work.

  Sensations undulated inside me, each source of pleasure taking its turn as my focus—thrust, nipple, clit, nipple, thrust—until all the feelings melded together, until every inch of my body was firing at once, unsure of where or how I was being stimulated, or by whom or by what.

  “My turn,” someone said.

  The cock slid out of me, and I gasped at its sudden absence. Someone scooped me into his arms, and instinctively I draped an arm around my transporter’s neck, placing my palm on his chest. His body was warm, breathing heavily, and so hard. As he carried me, I explored his chest, discovered a nipple and pinched.

  He cursed, then said, “Just for that, I’m going to fuck you extra deep, extra hard.”

  He set me down on what I could only assume was one of the sofas, and I stretched my limbs to explore my surroundings. I was on the long part of one of the sectionals, like a chaise longue, and lying flat on my back. The surface was soft beneath me, sensual against my skin. It felt as if someone had moved the fur rug I’d seen earlier onto its surface.

  Hands drew my arms up and above my head, stretching me, forcing my chest up and holding me there as other hands stroked and squeezed my breasts, my belly, my thighs. Pleasure rippled through me, spreading everywhere but concentrating hard in my now empty sex.

  A man’s fingers drew my legs apart and tried to lift them. “Relax,” a voice whispered in my ear. “We won’t hurt you. We want to worship you. We want to make you feel good.”

  The tone was comforting, gentle, so I yielded, letting the multiple hands holding my ankles and calves pull my legs back into a position where I was helpless and exposed. My sex was splayed before all these men, ready to be taken at will, but instead of penetration, their hands continued to caress. Without my sight I couldn’t anticipate their movements, where next I’d be touched or fondled or tweaked. Someone bit my nipple, hard enough to make me buck, and a hand rested gently, low on my belly, stroking with his thumb.

  “Remember your safe word,” a voice said. “We’re trusting you to tell us if anyone takes this too far. Our only desire is to turn you on, to make you feel things you’ve never felt, to create sensory memories to last a lifetime. Sometimes a little pain helps with that, but only if you want it.” Fingers pinched my nipples, holding both tight. I bucked again, but the pain morphed to pleasure and I licked my lips, relishing the foreign feelings. When he let go, the pain heightened and I moaned, twisting as much as I could in this awkward and restrained position.

  I’d never even fantasized about mixing pain with sex, yet I wanted more. This was my night to explore beyond the bounds of my experience, the bounds of my marriage, and I grew greedy. I wanted to feel it all, take it all, and be taken.

  The men’s hands and mouths continued to explore, to tease and ignite every inch of my body. Fingers sporadically stroked through my folds, pushing inside my sex. I raised my hips to draw the fingers deeper, wanting more, wanting it all. Something lightly slapped my sex. Then something slapped my breast, and something else low on my belly.

  “Do you like that?” a voice asked. “Do you like being slapped by our rock-hard cocks?” The smacks continued, never in the same order or the same places, and the surprise of each one made me writhe and moan. As the men continued, they took turns rubbing their cocks through my wetness, both stimulating me and providing lubrication for the slaps. I twisted within the confines of my captors.

  Someone parted my folds and rubbed his cock against my clit. I pressed my hips up, but it wasn’t enough. I yearned for more pressure on my clit. I yearned for a cock inside me.

  Instead, I got sharper slaps, one on each ass cheek, delivered by something harder than a cock, perhaps a leather crop.

  I wriggled against the hands that restrained me, not really trying to get free as the stinging slaps continued on my ass, on my nipples—on my sex. My body was on fire, every nerve sparking at once, every cell singing out for more contact in whatever form it might come.

  Two mouths sucked my tits while another kissed my mouth, sucking on my lips, my tongue, while the leather continued to slap my ass, stinging and burning and making me yearn to have another cock dive inside me.

  The spanking finally stopped, leaving me burning, and the pain subsided into a tingle that permeated my skin. Still splayed, I longed for penetration, but instead I got gentle teasing, fingers and mouths and cocks trailed everywhere except where I needed.

  “Please,” I said between kisses. “Please, one of you fuck me.”

  The cushions yielded to the weight of someone above me, and I got what I asked for. One of the men slid deliciously inside, driving deeper with each slow thrust. My greedy insides tried to hold on, to keep him inside longer each time, and the man groaned in response, the most erotic, satisfying sound.

  Restrained, I could ba
rely move, but I pressed my hips up to take him in further, and he pressed down, straining, giving me every inch of his cock. Once his balls reached my ass, he thrust a few times slowly, increasing his pace with his deep penetration. Before I knew it he was pumping fast and hard like piston, driving me ever closer to climax. When I was almost there, he slid out, achingly slow, before plunging deeply inside me again.

  This new rhythm continued for several minutes—in hard, out slow, in hard, out slow—until I felt like my body knew every inch of his cock, every vein on its length, the curve of its head.

  A finger reached down between us, whose I couldn’t tell, and rubbed my clit. I cried out as I climaxed, and the speed of the thrusting increased again, pounding me, nailing me into the cushions as my body contracted around the cock, as I thrashed against my restraints and my own uncontrollable convulsions.

  When I was starting to think I couldn’t take anymore, almost ready to use my safe word, he slid out and pressed kisses to my thighs. The hands holding my wrists and ankles released me and my body felt liquid, molten as I lay back—unable, not wanting, to move.

  “Jamie,” a voice murmured in my ear, “would you like to play in the shower?”

  I nodded, and let someone carry me, taking me up in his arms. After a few steps, my blindfold was removed. The man holding me had deep brown skin that glistened with sweat that beaded on his tightly curled chest hair. I ran my fingers over it, spreading the sweat, learning the texture, and he bent down to kiss me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “Did I fuck you too hard?”

  “No,” I answered, my voice soft. “I’m very okay.”

  He carried me into the bathroom, and the room was now steamy, the shower already on. Someone else opened the shower door from the inside and the man set me gently onto my feet on the tiled floor. The shower was already occupied by three other men, wet but still wearing their masks.

  The shower door closed and the steam warmed my skin as the men reached for me, pulling me under the rain-like water that fell from above. The men soaped my body, massaging, gently rubbing me everywhere as I luxuriated under the warm water and their slippery touch.

  One of them raised my hands above my head and I felt something wrap around my wrists. I looked up, but the cascading water prevented me from seeing whatever was holding my hands.

  I was restrained again, but I didn’t care. Whatever was holding my wrists allowed me to swivel in a full circle as the men continued to caress me, hands sliding everywhere, lips kissing, tongues licking and fingers dipping inside me.

  Outside the frosted glass was a shadow, and I almost wished I had a hand free to clear some of the steam. Based on the deep color, the “someone” standing there was clothed—the voyeur—and knowing he was watching made me want to put on a show. I’d never felt quite so wanton, so wild, so free.

  My energy returned and I arched, trying to touch the men’s cocks with my ass. One of them smacked my butt and the sound was enhanced by the water, making the slap’s bark far worse than its bite. But the bite was still there and the sting spread, heating my skin and fueling my desire. The men continued to explore my body, soaping me, slapping my ass, kissing and nibbling me in places I’d never imagined being nibbled. Realizing that one of my legs could no longer move, I looked down to see that one of the men had fixed some kind of cuff around my ankle that was attached to a bolt on the wall.

  While my head was turned, they clipped my other ankle in, and then tugged on the cords, pulling my legs wider. While my feet were still sliding into position on the slippery floor, a cock entered me from behind, thrusting up and striking all the over-stimulated places inside me.

  A man I couldn’t see held my hips as he drove into me, and I was grateful he wasn’t as big as the last man.

  A blond man with a black sequined mask flipped a switch and the water stopped coming down from the shower above, switching to a spray that surrounded us, striking everywhere from the chest down, tickling or soothing depending on where and how hard it struck.

  The blond man stepped forward, holding a shower nozzle. He traced it over the front of my body, slowly, deliberately, making me jump each time it crossed over my breasts or struck low on my belly. Just as I’d started to get used to the stimulation, he held it over my clit.

  I bucked, rising up off the tiles, and the man fucking me cursed and took a tighter hold on my hips as he continued to drive long strokes deep inside me. Before I could climax, the delicious pressure of the shower nozzle moved away, and roamed again over my belly and breasts, like a hundred fingers performing a gentle caress.

  The man turned a dial on the nozzle, setting it to massage mode, and its force concentrated into tiny pulsing streams. He flicked the punishing water back and forth across my nipples and I cried out, bucking each time, unable to control my muscles. Each pass of the water was like needles poking my sensitive flesh, and yet the instant it moved from one breast to the other, from my belly to my mound, heat and pleasure radiated through me, concentrating into the muscles that clenched at the cock inside me.

  Someone else drew my face to the side and kissed me, gliding his tongue in and out against mine, mimicking the motion of the cock as the water nozzle continued to explore and tease, roving low on my belly, then over my mound. Fingers parted me and the pressure, the hundreds of hard needles, landed right on my clit.

  My body convulsed, I lifted off my toes again, and when I dropped down the cock behind me drove deeper. My legs refused to support me and I hung by the wrist restraints as the cock’s speed increased and I exploded again. Even without a blindfold I couldn’t see anything but flashing lights detonating in my mind with explosive force.

  As my contractions began, the nozzle was mercifully pulled back, and I rode out the orgasm with at least three men holding me, helping the man behind me drive deeper.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  Someone carried me into the bedroom and gently laid me out on the bed. Unsure of my body’s position, I barely felt conscious and might have fallen asleep for a few moments. My limbs were so spent I couldn’t feel them, like they were part of the soft mattress beneath me, and when I opened my eyes there was almost no light, though I heard voices softly talking around me.

  “I’m not sure she can take anymore.”

  “She can. She just came around me. Hard. So fucking hard.”

  “We have to be sure not to hurt her.”

  “She’s very responsive.”

  I moaned, wanting to talk, but unable to form words.

  “You’re awake.” Luke slid onto the bed beside me, his hand on my belly, gently stroking. “How are you doing, darlin’?”

  I smiled, sliding against the crisp cool linens.

  “If you’re still up for it,” he said, “my friends and I have more surprises in store.”

  “More?” I lifted my head from the mattress. “How many more?” I looked around the room for more men.

  He chuckled. “Not more men, another toy.”

  “Toy?”

  Sliding his arm under my shoulders, he gently helped me to sit. A light went on that shone down onto something suspended from the ceiling that almost looked like a hammock, but much smaller than any hammock I’d ever seen. Straps and handles hung from its sides.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A swing.”

  “Oh!” I clapped my hand over my mouth for a second. “A sex swing?”

  He nodded, hugging me to his side. “With the swing, we can still give you pleasure without you needing to do any work. You’ll be completely supported.”

  I stared at the contraption, unsure of how it worked, but the mere idea of it stirred my curiosity, awakening my sexual energy from its overdosed state. A sound rustled in the corner and I realized my voyeur was sitting there, watching from the shadows with his hands on his thighs, his slacks tented. I didn’t remember telling Thom that my fantasy included being watched, but I could no longer think clearly enough to be certain
what had been part of my dreams versus what had happened tonight. So far, the experience had gone way beyond fulfilling my fantasy. It had gone places I’d never have been able to conceive. Like that swing.

  I bit my lower lip, imagining myself swinging like a pendulum onto a cock. When would I ever get a chance to do something like that again?

  I slid forward on the sheets. “How does it work?”

  Luke helped me stand and led me to the swing. Turning me, he guided me onto the seat, then some of the other men joined in to move my hands into straps I could hold on to, and my feet into loops that were almost like stirrups.

  “Because you’re tired,” Luke said, “we’re going to strap you in so you won’t fall out. Okay?”

  I nodded and they wrapped soft bindings around my wrists, ankles, and waist. I was suspended in the air, arms up, legs splayed, but it was comfortable. All my weight was borne by the fabric underneath my back, and if it weren’t for the exposure in front of all these men, which I’d almost gotten used to, this might be a comfortable way to relax.

  For what felt like twenty or thirty minutes, the men massaged me with scented oils. Their strong hands eased my neck and shoulders, my tired limbs, and I grew so relaxed I was in danger of falling asleep. But then the massage turned more erotic, moving to my breasts, my throat, my thighs, and finally my sex.

  Once again, wetness built between my legs, and by the time I heard condom packages tear I was desperate to have a cock inside me again.

  The swing spun in a slow circle, letting me view the whole room, and I realized that all six of the men stood in a circle around me, all hard, all wearing nothing but masks and condoms. Were they all going to fuck me at once?

  Luke grabbed a set of handles on the swing and pulled me toward him. His cock slid into my wetness with ease and he tugged on the handles, pumping, using the strength in his arms and his hips to drive deep inside me. He let go and I swung back. Another man caught me from behind and redirected the swing to push me toward one of the others.