Paganini's Tale, Chapter 9

Though she knew it was fruitless, she tried wrinkling her brow
and nose to get a small crack of light through the blindfold.
Nothing doing: she could see nothing but blackness, though she
strained her eyes. Her fingers felt the bindings that she knew
reached from her wrists to the bedframe's head. Smooth, cool,
probably silk. They didn't hurt, surprisingly. Tight enough to
hold her, but not so tight that she would need to worry about
lack of circulation.
   But she could not move her arms more than a few inches
laterally. With an almost academic curiosity, she continued
testing her bonds; never had she been bound. A week ago she
would have told her closest friend that she had no interest in
ever even trying it.
   Today, this hot afternoon, knowing what awaited her, the
bonds were electrically erotic. From her bound wrists she could
almost feel juices seeping into her, juices that filled her up
and needed a release. From her ankles, held fast by the ties
beneath her, she felt the firm pressure almost as if they were
hands clutching at her, demanding her complete abandonment of
everything she would call civilized.
   "Let go," they said to her, in tactile chants, like tribal
songs of exotic bushmen, and darker: "Prepare, for you have no
choice." Her legs shivered from the call, as her muscles heard
the cries and prepared.
   His fingertips maddeningly stroked the outsides of her legs,
and the muscles twitched, attending to a different primal song.
Running up like elven feet over thighs, hips, dipping down to
stroke the ridge of her smashed breasts, circling on her
armpits, then departing.
   Like a red pen through a map, the path his fingertips had
found tingled. Then, again: a slight touch, this time on the
inner skin of her ass cheeks, just above her anus. No pressure,
but still she could feel her sphincter subtly relaxing in
preparation, involuntarily. Her body, she realized, was rapidly
becoming not her own. She was just along for the ride.
   Again, his touch disappeared. She strained her ears for a
clue of what he was doing, but there was nothing but his slow,
measured breaths. Then something touching the hairs around her
cunt. <What was that, his cock, please let it be something...>
she thought, and strained against the bindings, trying to push
her cunt against whatever it was.
   It stayed in exactly the same relationship to her cunt,
tantalizingly close, but not quite touching her skin. She
pulled on the restraints again, jerking back on them, saying
"please, please, put something in, oh god, put something in my
hot cunt, now, please..."
   His hand covered her mouth, and she felt his warm body on her
back. His hard prick was a hot force pressing against her right
asscheek. He hissed in her ear.
   "You must not make another sound, or I will gag you." His
breath was hot in her ear. She bit her lip, mutely nodding.
   He pulled himself off her; the cold air rushed into where
their bodies had touched. She shivered again, though not with
cold.
   Again something touched the hairs, and she tried to remain
immobile, to be completely passive, a lump of flesh - but
discovered she absolutely could not. Her body took over, aching
for touch, for contact, for release. She felt bloated with
lust.
   She realized that what her body told her was right. He didn't
want a slab of meat to fuck. He wanted a woman. But he wanted a
woman completely. She could fuck back, she could do whatever
she wanted, whatever she could. <He told me he wanted to be
pleased with me,> she thought to herself, almost removed from
the hunger that set her cunt on fire. <It's okay to want it,>
she thought.
   Then she could no longer ignore the gently increasing
pressure on her cunt. Something was working its way in with a
push so slow that her juices were soaking it with lubricant as
it sank past her outer lips. <I always have to hold them apart
for Larry,> she thought abstractly, <and it would hurt if he
wasn't going so slow...> and she arched her back in an attempt
to push it farther in.
   She was sure it was a cock now, as the head slipped in. Well
she remembered that thick head in her mouth; she licked the
insides of her teeth, thinking about sucking him hard after he
was through fucking her.
   In his cock went, stretching out her cuntwalls at an
agonizing pace. Alice could feel the ridge of his cock-helmet
springing past the ridges inside her own cunnie. He was so hard
there was virtually no give to his prick.
   She could feel his thighs as they contacted hers, then tried
to push back as his pelvis finished the final shove of his
invasion. Her cervix jumped as if goosed.
   And she almost groaned, but held it back at the last moment.
He was in fully now, and seemed to be letting his fat cock soak
up the juices, pulling the power from the ties around her
wrists and ankles, pulling the energy through  them, using her
body as a conduit. Down her arms, up her legs, meeting and
focusing with her cunt as the nexus point.
   He pulled out suddenly, and thrust his prick in fast. She
jumped, and could not stop the groan. Then she felt hands
around her head, and something on her lips; her tongue snaked
out to touch it, and lapped silk.
   "You will not stay quiet voluntarily. I am going to gag you.
Now is your last chance to stop. If you refuse the gag, I will
untie you and leave."
   He waited. Alice felt herself; felt her body stretched out on
the bed, bent over the brass, ass in the air; she felt the
nubby texture of the bedcover on her tits; she felt her lashes
fluttering against the inside of the blindfold. She gripped the
straps holding her wrists; felt his stiff cock enfolded by her
hungry cunt. Then she nodded.
   The gag separated her lips, and she opened for it. The silk
pulled the corners of her mouth against her teeth, and she
adjusted, so the tightness was only on the corners. She bit
down on the silk as he tied it behind her.
   Once the gag was tied, it was as though he had been set
completely free. Immediately he began pumping his cock in and
out of her at frightening speed. The bed rocked, squeaking as
loudly as she had groaned, as loud as she was trying to groan,
with each thrust. The pressure built inside her, and she
tried again, through the gag, to release some of it with sound,
but the grunts were too muffled, too contained, so the pressure
simply built, the songs joined voices, and the echoes began in
earnest.
   Her body rang like a forty-foot pipe organ fills a cathedral
with sound, searching for an exit, seeking escape from the
marble walls. The doors were shaking with the echoes, she
could see them shaking, as if the music was pushing them out as
a hurricane tried to push in, and her lithe body stiffened,
legs straining against their ties, arms pulling against their
restrictions, her body squeezing to help force open the doors,
and the doors burst open, the rain and hail and dust from the
hurricane rushed in as the pent-up echoes arced out through the
opening, and she came screaming bluntedly into the gag, each
breath a gutteral wrench, each thrust another explosion.
   Writhing helplessly in her bonds, she shuddered and shook
like a minnow on a dock. His hands dug into her ass cheeks,
holding her cunt tight against his crotch as he came. She could
feel the pulsations of his cock spewing jism deep into her
cunt, and that pushed her up once more, a dripping come like
rain after a long hot day.
   But the rain did nothing to chill the heat of his spume. She
could feel the driblets of cream seeping down her inner thighs,
little gushes pushing out with each slow, after-cum pump he was
giving her, and giving himself. Alice fought to catch her
breath, still feeling the reverberations of lost echoes.