Dream Lover, Story 5

It’s one of those mobbed hall scenes common to probably any convention – this one only standing out because the mobs are dressed in wild science fiction outfits. I noticed you staring at me – you looked away when I glanced at you but next time I looked back there you were again – I caught your eye and we both blushed, looked away, and came back for more. When you came towards me my heart sped up unreasonably – I’d never even seen you before, had I?

You commented on my new tattoo and asked if you could take a photo of it, and I said “Please do”… you brought a big camera up and started focusing and changing settings. The light in the hallway kept changing as people passed in front of the wall sconces, pausing to talk, moving on – and then somebody jogged your shoulder just as you were about to take a shot, and frustrated, you said, “Come on, my room’s just a few doors down – I can’t take a picture here!” You turned around and started walking – looked back when I didn’t follow immediately – and said, “It’s okay, I’ll leave the door unlocked – you’re safe with me!” I wasn’t quite sure about that – you exuded a definite air of sensuality even through the unmistakeable overlay of the overgrown boy that is a man at a science fiction convention – but I followed.

We walked into the room, a carbon-copy of the one I had – a bizarre fakery of a medieval room, with paintings of hillsides outside crenellated windows and absurd bedsteads with man-high headboards. The curtains were closed and you walked across in the darkness and opened the black-out curtains, leaving the sheers closed, and proclaimed the light perfect for the shot you wanted. You asked me to stand by the bed closest to the window with my back to the light, and started photographing. After a few shots you asked if I’d remove the bandana around my neck – it was too much of a contrast, and I did. I was nervous, and twisted it around, knotting and unknotting it, trying not to move too much.

I didn’t hear the camera click for a little while and looked up – and you were right behind me. I’d managed to twist the bandana around both wrists – you looked over my shoulder and when I glanced up, smiled wickedly at me, said, “Got yourself tangled up? Here, I’ll help,” dropped the camera on the bed, reached both arms around me to grasp my wrists and in one movement twisted the fabric tighter and brought my arms up, looped the material around the ball on the corner of the headboard…and I was caught. My arms were stretched so tight I couldn’t even touch my heels to the ground and had to stand on my tiptoes. I twisted around, my eyes wide, starting to inhale to scream – but you were ahead of me and got your hand over my mouth, pressing your entire body against the back of me. You lifted me a little, taking the pressure off my wrists, and said, “See, I said I wouldn’t hurt you…”, grinding your hips hard against my ass, “… too much, at least.” I struggled but couldn’t even move an inch. You had one hand over my mouth and the other tight around my waist, pressing my body against a rock-hard erection. I wanted to beg you to at least give me a chance – I wasn’t adverse to a seduction – but it didn’t have to be like this! But you only wrenched my head around to one side and replaced your hand with your lips, hard and demanding. Your other hand found the straps of my leotard and pulled hard, but the lycra wasn’t going anywhere. You grunted in annoyance and reached around to your back pocket, pulling out a good-sized Buck knife. I drew in my breath to scream again but again you were too quick, getting your hand back over my mouth in time. You flicked it open with one hand and faster than I could blink cut both shoulder straps of my top, flicked it closed and jammed it back into your pocket. Keeping your hand over my mouth, you spun me around – looked me in the eye – and said, “You’ve seen I could hurt you and I haven’t, right? Promise not to scream and we can keep it that way,” and I nod my head – having your hand over my mouth makes it hard to breathe and that’s scaring me more than anything! You remove it, slowly, and when I keep my promise you continue your work with the sound of my harsh breathing loud in my ears, and yours isn’t far behind.

Taking the slashed pieces of my top you slide it slowly down, catching the fabric on my nipples, which are mutinously erect – looking up to wink at me to let me know you’ve caught this sign that some part of me is not fighting this. When you get it down to my waist you sit on the bed and twist my body to straddle yours, and lower your head to punish my breasts with your mouth and teeth, biting, sucking and pulling until I’m whimpering, looking up to ask harshly, “Do you need something to help you keep quiet?” and I nod No!, eyes wide. You go back to your ministrations, your hands pulling me hard against you, rocking yourself between my legs until the seam in my jeans rubs me raw. And then so suddenly I gasp, you’re standing, forcing me to hang from my wrists again, and are stripping the rest of my clothes from me with impatient haste. You pull your clothes off as quickly, barely giving me time to appreciate the honed length of your body before you’re on me again – turning me so I’m facing the wall, and, with one knee up on the bed you bring yourself up against me and are in me to the hilt in one move – so fast I cry out against my instructions but you don’t seem to notice. What you do seem to notice is that I’m ready for you – not merely wet but actually dripping – you put one hand between us to feel my need drenching my thighs – and with a rough hand turn my head to the side and say, low, “You… you like it like this, don’t you?” I bite my lip, nod, whisper “Yes… please… don’t stop!” and pull hard against my bonds until it *hurts* and groan and struggle between the wood of the headboard and the hard length of you, and you laugh low and begin to slam into me, bringing your hands up to squeeze my breasts, pinching my nipples until I scream behind my closed lips, growling like some kind of an animal into my ear. I feel you losing your rhythm and fighting it, slowing, turning my head to meet your lips again and taking my mouth as thoroughly with your tongue as you’re taking my body with yours.

And something changes there – the kiss begins to gentle, not lessening in passion but in the need to hurt – your lips taking mine more possessively than demandingly and your hands are caressing my breasts now instead of punishing. One hand slides down my belly to move between my legs, which I spread obligingly in anticipation of your fingers pleasuring me as the rest of you has. You continue to take me but slowly now, pausing just outside of me until I beg, sliding in an inch, pausing again, and pulling out, playing me with consummate skill, your fingers moving along the length of your shaft where it meets me and teasing the sensitive flesh there, sliding forward to find the spot that will take me higher. You begin to slide your wet fingers over me until I’m writhing against you, speaking low into my ear of your pleasure and of how you want mine. I’m trying to keep from the edge, pulling against my bonds so the pain distracts me – but you rub me harder and more insistently – demanding that I come for you in this rough, low voice that I can’t resist – and despite myself I feel the wave coming for me, and with my thighs shaking so hard it’s a good thing I don’t need them to support me, I give in and let my orgasm ride over me. I’m screaming for real now and you don’t try to quiet me this time, but hardening impossibly inside of me begin to take me in earnest, slamming into me so hard the headboard is banging against the wall… your body crushing mine against the wood so it’s hard in front and hard in back and the pleasure is so great that I don’t stop coming for a second as you press into me harder and come too, the jet so hot and sudden that I feel it like another hand inside me and convulse again, struggling in the most extreme pleasure against you and with you and around you…

And then you collapse back onto the bed, your forearm over your eyes, your breath coming hard and ragged. After a moment you move your arm and open your eyes to view me, hanging by my wrists from your bed with your come streaming down my thighs, and an incredibly sweet smile spreads over your face, and you say, “Hi… what’s your name?”