Mind and Matters

"I'll take care of that soon," She said, again hearing my mind.

The mind to mind connection was so much more direct than Victoria had indicated, I decided I'd have to talk to her about it soon. Just how much could Denise hear inside my head? What dangers lurked in all this mental communication? Was I suddenly an open book to anyone I made eye contact with?

I forced myself off such a ludicrous thought and resumed my devouring of her pussy and clit. While flicking the latter with my tongue, my chin and lower lip were pushing her swollen vulva apart. My hands were massaging her bare breasts, and my shoulders were hugging her thighs to the sides of my head. I was in a safe, and warm place, like a baby in the womb, and reveling in the delight of the musky scent and softness of it all.

To my surprise, Denise raised her legs, propping the arches of her heeled shoes on my shoulders. The prickly poke of her spikes dug teasingly at my skin, but the new treasure she opened to my face was the most heavenly combination of orifices and scents I'd ever seen. She was perfect in every respect, from her burgeoning clitoris to her heavily swollen, wet, slick pussy lips, to the puckered little sphincter muscle of her ass, she was sexual nirvana before my eyes, tongue and nose.

I restarted my nose at the bottom of her crack, even deeper now and began anew to survey its contours and parts. My tongue had no choice but to linger first at her anal shutter, poking and rimming its forbidding door. I pushed on it several times, letting it know the intruder was just teasing, not giving up. On one more earnest push, the shutter opened, allowing my stabbing tongue to enter its hidden regions. Denise bucked once again.

I have always loved to please a woman with oral sex. In addition to enjoying the smell and taste of a woman, I like to watch closely, and feel how every touch and twiddle affects her body. Some women are less comfortable with a man so intimate between their legs, overly conscious of their appearance or maybe it's just so forward an act they cannot get through those mores so ingrained. But a woman who can let go completely, a woman who can drop her worldly image entirely and concentrate solely on the delectable ministrations of someone who knows how to please her, well, that is a woman who would reward me with the movements and sounds and smells that make me a man. Denise was shaping up to be the best I'd ever encountered.

I sensed more than heard her next wish, to have my finger enter her ass. She wanted more penetration, more movement, and I corkscrewed my finger around inside her, aiming to please. She squirmed with delight, even pushing her hips at my hand to maximize my finger's depth.

I began to curl the digit inside her and then straighten it again. It wasn't long before she was stretched enough to allow my finger to double back on itself, each time bringing her another notch toward orgasm. I was amazed I hadn't thought of that before. It was a curious exercise for me, and obviously pleasurable for her. Then something strange happened. I sensed her telling me to pull the doubled over digit back toward the shuttered door. I did so and felt her hips rise up with my pull. My finger was so bunched up it wouldn't pull out, too large to fit through the opening. When I began to unravel it to let myself out more easily, she told me, I know she told me, silently but as sure as my finger was up her ass, to pull harder with my finger still coiled.

I did.

"Ahhh!" She exclaimed at the pain, or what I thought must be pain. Reflexively, I began again to uncoil my finger, and again that silent command sounded in my head, "No! Pull!"

I did, harder than before.

Denise's moan was louder still. When she settled back on the mattress, my finger still coiled insider but no longer pulling against an impossibly narrow entrance, she shouted into my head, "Two fingers! Now!"

It was as if she'd used a megaphone in my ear, and yet I knew she'd not said a word anyone else could hear. Something was weird, but the sex was way too hot to break my concentration. I twisted and turned my hand to keep my index finger curled, and yet stuff my middle finger inside her hole alongside it.

"Now curl it!" Again, the soundless command.

I did.

"Now pull it! Hard!"

This was getting scary. I pulled.

Apparently it wasn't enough, for Denise pulled her hips up and away from me to increase the pressure. I thought I was in danger of ripping her guts out.

"Three fingers!" The silence roared between my ears.

I complied, felling as if I might as well just punch an entire fist up her ass. She bucked when I fucked and when I pulled on the three gnarled sets of knuckles. I pulled them hard too, as instructed.

"Ohhh, YES!"

This time she shouted out loud, loud enough to wake the dead in the next yard. I had never seen a woman get so intensely involved in the moment. Every nerve ending in her body was sexually aroused, tensed and waiting for equal satisfaction. I continued to pull out on the opening to her ass, watching the skin and sinew around it bulge at me, then suck me back in again. I was no less hot that Denise, I was sure.

"All of it!" The words reverberated inside my skull, knocking around my brain like bells going off.

"What?" I said aloud, my normal voice sounding odd in this silent conversation we had been having.

She reached down and put both her hands around my offending wrist and pushed me out, but pulled me back in again before I cleared the entrance. She did this several times before I realized what she was doing – stretching her ass.

"Fingers first." She commanded in my brain, "Then cup your hand around your thumb. Give it all to me! NOW!"

She pushed my hand clear of her ass, fingers still curled to prove to me, or maybe herself, that she could take more. Contrary to my concerns, her ass did not rip. In fact, when my fingers cleared the hot, moistened cave, she involuntarily breathed out in relief, only to suck a load of air back in and hold it while I prepared to fist fuck her beautiful ass.

To help me, she raised her knees high enough to grab them with her hands and pulled them toward her chest. This opened her ass to me in such an inviting way there was no denying her command. I stood up, leaned over to position one hand on her breasts, and slipped each of the fingers on my other hand into her slippery cunt, and back out with fresh lubricant to aid in my next task. Then I formed a tube with my four fingers and pushed the tip of the longest finger through the nearly shuttered anal opening.

She didn't move.

I pushed the package further, forcing her sphincter apart quickly as the tips of all four fingers entered. She moaned, but made no move to stop me. If anything, the commands were still coming though my brain, "More, more, more."

Cupping my hand around my thumb, I pushed harder and was sure she would stop me soon. I could see how wide her hole was opening and almost cringed at the thought of the pain she must be feeling, and yet I felt my cheeks tighten in anticipation of what was to come.

"I will," I heard in my head.

I started to think, "What the..."

"Me first. Push!"

I pushed, almost frightened at what was going on in my head.

My hand was in nearly to the last knuckles, all five, my thumb already having slipped into the hole among all my other fingers.

"Push!" She screamed in my head.

I jumped and did just that, shoving my hand cruelly up her ass, all the way to my wrist. Then I froze, sure I had ruined this gorgeous example of womanhood.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Yessssssssss." She moaned long and guttural.

I looked up to see if she was still alive, and found that she had taken her hands from her self-supporting knees and held the sheets in one fist while she mauled her free breast with the other.

"Push,:" She commanded inside my head.

I pushed, and my wrist disappeared.

"Clench your fist, hard." She ordered.

I did and she let me rest there a moment, then said, "Now pull."

I pulled with my upper arm and felt the whole assembly slipping back out of her tunnel. Before I could see my first knuckle again however, I fetched up hard against an anal muscle that had stretched to its absolute maximum and simply would not stretch anymore.. I had shoved more in than what could physically come out, and Denise's moan of pleasure grew into a scream for more.

She bucked on the bed, forcing herself up and down the shaft of my arm, one second using her arms on mine to pull me in, and next, pushing as if in birth to eject the impossible. After several such cycles, I managed to awake from watching her self-immolation, and brought my other hand down to her pubic mound. At once I felt one of her hands clamp down on mine and press my palm against her clit. Then it began to move mine in elliptical passes over her sex, stimulating an already intensely orgasm ridden woman. Until that moment, I couldn't tell where one eruption ended and the next one began, and I'm sure Denise couldn't either.

I managed to break from under the clamping hand and began to twiddle her clit between my thumb and forefinger. She bucked half a foot off the bed in a jolt that might just have been the result of being probed with high voltage. Her shouts of "harder" and "harder" got her what she wanted until I finally felt I was pinching her clit beyond dangerous and held back from any further pressure. Instead, I pulled and twirled the little prick evoked even more bucking, screaming and orgasmic delight from the sexiest woman I had ever seen.

I watched her writhing in pleasure, and felt proud she was so enthralled as a direct result of my efforts alone. I found myself wondering what she must be feeling, what it was like to have her ass so filled, and her most sensitive organ treated so roughly. I felt my ass cheeks clench and my dick pulse in sympathy with the thoughts. I knew it would be glorious, it had to be.

"It is," She said through the orgasmic storm, "You'll love it."

Chapter Eight

Several days after the incident in my office, and many innuendo from Anne that we should repeat our exercise, I consented to meet her after work. It was far too dangerous to carry on like we had before, lucky as we were that Jerry's secretary Rose, was the only interruption we encountered.

Jerry still didn't know about his gal, at least not from me, and he hadn't said anything, even if he had been informed by anyone else. Frankly, my time with Denise had become so much a part of me that I really didn't think much about the whole affair. It was an office fling, with an interesting twist, but it was over. Denise was my thing now, a delicious, gorgeous, busty woman with an insatiable appetite for sex, and apparently no extra baggage to weigh down our relationship. She was the girl of my dreams, all wrapped up and tucked safely into my pocket. If there was one break in the perfect mold, it was the infrequent opportunities to meet.

After our first encounter, which ended in a missionary fuck following her bizarre anal show, I felt a bit of a let down, like the last effort had been to get me off as a price she'd paid for the best fisting and twiddling she'd ever had. But I knew she had to be exhausted after all that bucking and pain, so I wrote it off as an investment in our future, a testament to how far I was willing to go to meet her needs. So until our second meeting, scheduled for next week, I would have to be satisfied with a few wet dreams and hand jobs to tide me over, that is until I consented to meet Anne at her place.

Her apartment was in a sleazy part of Chelsea on the lower west side. It was an old building with no doorman and only four units as far as I could see. I let myself through the first of two doors, found the number "201" on the board of four numbers, and pushed her button.

No voice answered, but the door buzzed and I entered the building. Between facing doors marked "101" and "102", was a narrow stairway leading to the second floor landing. I arrived there and turned about to see similar doors marked "201" and "202". I heard sounds, some muffled music and what sounded like someone yelling, though it could easily have been the song. Fortunately, it was not coming from "201" as I placed my ear against the door before knocking.

To my amazement, it was not Anne who opened the door, but Rose. And she was grinning as if she'd just eaten all the Oreo's and was about to start on the ice cream.

"Come on in!" She said, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside.

My loins twitched at the sight of her in a black leather bustier, barely containing the flesh of her breasts, black lace stockings with a leather garter belt and black lacey panties over the top. Her hair was in a pony tail and she looked much hotter than in the office. Then I saw Anne on the couch in what would pass for a living room. It was rather Spartan and small. A door-less exit on the far side led to a kitchenette, and another to my left led to what was surely the bedroom for I could see the corner of a bed through the opening. But it was the closed door to my right that didn't make much sense, so I figured it for a closet. Rose pulled me over to the couch where Anne was.

"Here," She said rather abruptly, "This is who you came for, isn't it?" She stood in front of us and grinned broadly.

I looked over at Anne and reached instinctively to hold her hand. To my surprise, she didn't reach back, but leaned out from the couch to show me her hands were cuffed behind her. While I was looking, again to my surprise, I felt a similar device clamp around my free right hand. I pulled at it immediately, but was too late, for it was now anchored quite securely to an eye-bolt on the floor just beyond the couch. I looked up at Rose just in time to see her grin widen even further.

"Well, boss man, we both seem to want the same thing." She emphasized the word "thing," as if Anne were no more than meat.

"Now just a minute here Rose," I spoke officiously as if my office voice would command some respect. "What are you doing in Anne's apartment?"

Rose laugher aloud. I looked at Anne and she sheepishly looked back at me. "She fooled me, Mr. Demming."

Her using my name seemed so out of place with the two of us handcuffed before an obvious dominatrix complex.

"She convinced me this is what you would want. She seemed to know you. Have you two been, uh, together before?"

Again Rose laughed, and I said, "No." As sexy as Rose was, she was also devious, gay and who knows what else? And that meant she could be dangerous. Being handcuffed like I was, I was feeling less than safe.

Rose continued to cackle as she moved over to me, then to Anne, sending just a bit of relief through my nerves. She kissed Anne affectionately, and ran her hands over the woman's breasts. She worked her way around the back of the couch and leaned in to kiss her some more, on the ears and back of her neck. When I looked down to my feet to straighten my neck for a second, I felt a swift click on my other wrist and before I could react, I felt a tug on that arm, pulling it relentlessly toward the first cuffed hand. I looked behind me and Rose was hauling on the rope through a pulley anchored to the floor, bringing my back up and over the side arm of the couch to accommodate the tug on my arms and hands. I managed to settle sitting sideways on the end of the couch, one knee up on the cushions, the other leg resting on the floor. This apartment was deliberately rigged for this kind of attack.

Anne looked at me and I could see some trepidation in her eyes. She had proven in my office she was up for just about anything, but this was so new it frightened her. I winked as if to tell her it was just a game. It was in fact pretty stimulating. I could feel the arousal in my pants at being handled by a wanton woman, even if she was a lesbian. At least I was in for a good show, I figured.

Rose stepped around Anne and pulled her up to her feet, snapped a collar on her with a leash of about six feet in length, and pulled her to the mysterious door, now directly in front of where I faced from the couch. She opened it with her foot, and pulled Anne in. Once inside, Rose pushed Anne past her, but turned to look at me. She smiled, and took her hand off the door, apparently allowing me to watch. What I saw behind her when I looked, was both horrifying and exciting as could be. First, I could see the room was small, which fit right in with the rest of the apartment. It appeared to be a bedroom once, converted for a more satisfying use, at least for Rose's purposes. I caught sight on the left of a knee high, cushioned leather bench. It was too long for weight lifting, though its legs, eight in all, were far more stout than they had to be for simply sitting. On the right, the wall was closer to the door and I could see a series of ropes and pulleys and dangling rings and whatever that looked more like spaghetti than anything else. The only exception in the tangled mess was a clearly visible sitting sling hanging from four rings on the ceiling.

In the center of the room, facing me, was an examination chair, the kind of thing for GYN's, with stirrups and all. I'd never seen one before, except in pictures of course, and I examined it quickly for any details I could pick up. Standing out first was the obvious access such a device would give to the privates of the patient. Next, the thing was covered with adjustments. For every part on it, there was an adjustment in just about any direction. This thing could be molded to fit any human, or animal. And last, I saw the straps. They were everywhere, on the stirrups, the heel cups, where one's waist would be in the seat, where one's chest would be, and even where one's head would be held against the leather head rest. Oh yes, like the "doctor" in this scene, it was all dressed out in leather wherever a body would touch, and chrome wherever else.

Rose went over and stood next to the rig as if she were posing for my camera. I hoped, for the moment anyway, the chair wasn't for me. But I felt a fear for Anne. She was standing dutifully on the other side of the chair, head bowed and waiting for the next order from her mistress. It was clear that she wanted the new experience because she wasn't fighting or even fidgeting against her bonds. But it was also clear from an occasional shiver she wasn't sure what to expect, or how far to trust this intruder on her affair with her boss. And her boss was watching!

Rose reached down and pulled up an electrical box dangling from a large rubber conduit that trailed off into the conical base of the chair. She pushed a button, smiling all the time and alternating her gaze at me and her subject for reactions from both. The chair slowly sunk down on its pedestal to the conical bottom, maybe two feet off the floor. It was clearly low enough to force even a non-cooperative participant into it by simply pushing them backwards.

As if on cue, she pulled on Anne's leash and positioned her in front of the chair, facing me. Both of them looked at me, Anne in a pleading dread, and Rose to see that I was watching. I certainly was. I just hoped what I was about to see wasn't something Anne would regret. At just that second, a protective jolt A protector's urge suddenly ran though my veins and I felt I would destroy this intruder if she hurt my secretary.

The mistress turned and pulled Anne's blouse apart at the lapels, hard and sharp enough to pop every button. Some flew across the floor and others dangled from the ruined garment. Anne flinched, but did not struggle. Rose glanced again at me to be sure I saw.

Then she unbuckled the belt holding Anne's slacks, tugged down the zipper, and let the woman's slacks fall to her ankles. She stepped away again so I could see it all, and Anne looked terrific in her bra and panties. They were plain material, stretchy, white, and contained her figure in a way when combined with the leash I could feel the pre-cum reach the end of my dick. I must have sighed.