Sylen Desires Ch. 01bySilentium©
Note to readers:
It's been a long time, but here it is - the second chapter in Sylen's story. Things are beginning to look more explicitly sexy, and will probably be progressing along those lines as the story progresses. I hope you enjoy :)
It was two weeks before she heard from them again. Online, she was given strict orders not to call or contact them in any way. The tone of the email was indeterminable to her. It seemed flirtatious and teasing, but the orders therein were all but distancing, almost aloof. She knew they were toying with her: the bottom line of the email ordered her to masturbate to the thought of being unable to make contact with them, to the thought of their distance. As she shut the computer, she found herself already wet, pushing two fingers inside and cradling her clit with her thumb, she pulsed to a steady rhythm inside, feeling herself contract and expand, her heart empty and full of fear, and her cunt wet and hungry. As the orgasm exploded through her body, confusing and shattering all at once, images of both of them flickered through her head. Jonathan's kiss, Shelly's scent, the grip of their hands on each of hers. The orgasm left her unsatisfied, frustrated and longing. She took comfort in the thought that this was probably their intention.
She'd expected it to take them a week, assumed they'd call or send another email soon to tease her or give more instructions. She'd see them online occasionally but, per their instructions, never spoke to them. Watching their username like that was almost too hard and after a few days she set it on "hide" without blocking them. As the days went by she became more and more impatient, finally wondering if they were intending to contact her again at all. She started wondering if that email was their strange, fetish-y way of saying goodbye, not the first time someone took off so abruptly from her life. By the end of 13 days she began to accept it, hardened herself inside and resolved to let herself be sad without losing herself. She moved on with her day maintaining a typical wry amusement of such incidents: an addition to her collection of random, bizarre and short-lived relationships. She admitted to herself that she was little bit brokenhearted, but as per usual tried not to give it much thought. What good would that do, anyway? It wasn't even that important, they only ever met once. And still, a small part of her was hoping that maybe they were simply still delaying...
One day afterwards, they called. That is, Shelly called. Sylen's heart began to race and she felt excitement welling in the pit of her stomach as she saw Shelly's number on the screen of her cell phone. As she answered the phone she received no greeting, but a slightly distant tone that she recognized as Shelly's domme voice.
"I bet you've been impatient for us," she said, and Sylen felt a rock melting in her chest, "perhaps you thought we're through with you?"
Sylen was inclined to admit that she did, and immediately felt stupid for even entertaining the idea. It hasn't even been that long. Was she really that inconfident? (Yes, she realized, she was). She heard Shelly's bemused smile over the phone as her soft voice reassured her, "How can we be done with you when we haven't even started? I wanted you to crave for us a little bit before we started using you. So you could feel how attached to us you already are." As she spoke, Sylen knew that she was right. Inside, they already had their grasp on her, no matter how much she tried to deny it.
"Yes," she muttered breathlessly, feeling herself slide into submission and her cunt becoming wet, "Thank you."
"You can start calling me Mistress, Sylen."
Sylen felt her heart jump and her cunt contract. "Thank you, Mistress." She closed her eyes, trying to control her breath and expecting Shelly's voice.
After a moment that lasted eternity, it came, asking "Are you available tomorrow evening?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Good," Shelly replied. "When's the earliest you can come to our house?"
"Then come at six thirty. Wear a buttoned shirt. Don't be late."
"Oh, and one more thing: masturbate tonight thinking about us. But do not cum. From now on and until you leave our house tomorrow, your orgasms are ours, your cunt is ours, your body is ours."
Sylen hung up and found herself dripping wet inside her briefs.
She had to hold herself from masturbating until night came. By the time she went to bed (warm and hazy, after a shower) her entire body was tingling with anticipation. She could feel the tips of her nipples and of her fingers, felt her neck, shoulders and between her legs. Aware of every inch of her body, the contact with the bed sheets after the shower already prepared her -- in her mind, the soft fabric became the gentle touch of fingers, running over her. Echoing her thoughts, her fingers began trailing on her body: lower belly, inner thighs, a touch on the nipple, sliding down. She imagined herself being held down and touched by them, completely passive. As she slid her fingers inside her aching cunt, she imagined them above her.
In her fantasy, Shelly's face was close to hers, one hand on her mouth, so as to keep her silent, the other holding her wrist down to keep her from moving. Jonathan was lying by her side, one hand on her neck while the other was grabbing her hand and pushing it down and inside her, forcing her to masturbate, dictating the rhythm and intensity. She felt her cunt contracting and pushed her fingers even deeper inside as the thought passed through her mind, and waves of pleasure lapped all through her body. His fingers/her fingers dug inside her wetness and she felt herself let out a sigh.
Sylen's pleasure began to mount. Now in her fantasy Shelly had pressed her fingers into her mouth, forcing her to suck as Jonathan kept his grab on her hand, forcing her in and out of herself. Again and again she felt herself penetrated, hoped to be as helpless tomorrow as she imagined now. A mild pang of longing in her heart, and a pang of pleasure in her cunt. She heard Shelly's voice in her ear, the slight touch of her lips just enough to give her shivers: "Your orgasms are ours, your cunt is ours, your body is ours." She felt herself drawing a deep breath, feeling her orgasm building up. God, how she wanted to cum.
She drew back abruptly as another wave of pleasure washed over and receded from her. Forcing her fingers out of herself, she let out a small, desperate moan of frustration. Her pulse was beating violently between her legs, and she was dripping wet. She kept her hand positioned just above her outer labia, hoping to lend some comfort to her burning need. One more calming movement, and her hand was climbing back up, a forced separation. She tried to take pleasure in her frustration, tried to think of them and their demand. It only made her want to cum more. At the same time she also felt proud, obedient, a little subby flame inside her.
With some difficultly, she eventually let herself slide into sleep. She couldn't wait for the next day.