A Box, a Woman and Time Ch. 04byLavared©
It struck you as you were sitting at your desk, trying hard to stay awake during what was undoubtedly the dullest Webex in the history of the world, and drinking a cup of far too weak coffee. Your wife was gone and had left in her place a demand for your few possessions and for a hefty percentage of your paycheck from now until the end of time. The box and whatever magic it contained was gone; destroyed by her in a fit of rage after your last return from the otherplace.
No longer would you go through time and space to have incredible sex with a beautiful woman or women after having spent an average of fifteen minutes in their presence; something that had been so far removed from your typical experience with the opposite sex as to make you began to doubt the reality of what happened and your sanity.
Yet surely if you were without reason and mentally inhabiting a fantasy world you would now be picturing yourself somewhere other than this messy office with a lukewarm cup of coffee in your hand. There had never been anything special enough about you to justify the remarkable turn your life had taken with the discovery of the box. But what was at first frightening, then curious and finally customary had become a part of you and you mourned the loss of it almost as much as if not more than the disintegration of your unhappy marriage.
So you wrapped yourself up in your work, and dragged yourself home each night: tired, listless and decaffeinated: cut off from all emotion; your life reduced to a mindless slog of going through the motions.
And time passed.
One night you ran out to the grocery store to restock a few items. Moisture saturated the air, making the balmy night feel velvety and smooth. A bright moon hung in the cloudless sky and you found yourself feeling glad to be alive. Not overjoyed or ecstatic or blissful but filled with enough positive emotion that you realized happiness was something you hadn't felt in a long time, even before the divorce. And that small amount of happiness was enough.
You made your purchases, throwing in a bottle of Yellowtail Shiraz, as a celebration of life returning and stepped out into the gentle evening air.
A truck was parked just in front of the door, with a large Krispy Kreme sign and enormously disproportionate glazed donuts. As you stepped behind the truck you noticed that one of the back doors was open and the pleasant smell of donuts was wafting out. Swinging your small plastic bag a little and thinking of how satisfying it would be to sit on the front porch and drink some wine later you stepped off the curb.
A dark figure appeared at your side.
"Into the truck."
"Hey, you can't..."
"Now. Into the truck." The command was punctuated with a sudden jab in your side of what might be a weapon.
You were about to twist and run when another figure appeared from inside the back of the truck and pointed a rifle at you. Definitely a weapon.
You clambered into the back of the truck, the rifle still pointed at you from close range, your heart pounding furiously and your spine icy cold with fright. The smaller figure with the rifle motioned you further into the truck and you took a few steps closer to the plastic racks filled with donut boxes.
The smell of fresh glazed donuts was strong and mixed incongruously with your fear.
The backdoor swung shut and you heard the steel rod slide to lock it shut from outside. Now you were trapped in the back of the truck with 2700 boxes of donuts and a mysterious figure coolly training the business end of a rifle on your chest. A dim light shone from the front, just enough to break the darkness but not enough to show any details. When the truck jerked away from the curb, it almost threw you off balance but you grabbed the nearest rack and held on. The smaller figure seemed to have the reflexes of a cat and held steady on two feet, the rifle barrel swaying only an inch of so – still steadily trained on your chest.
"Who are you?"
"Don't ask who I am, you're better off not knowing."
It was a woman's voice.
"Why have you kidnapped me?"
"Sorry, that's classified."
An eerily familiar woman's voice. Why would the voice of this (criminal? CIA agent? PETA person gone insane?) woman sound familiar to you? You racked your brain trying to place the voice and it helped to calm you enough that your breathing slowed to an almost normal rate.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Look, whatever's going on I can help you. I'm a reporter. Tell me your story and I'll make sure everyone hears about it and understands where you're coming from."
"Really, Joe? How odd, considering that just a few hours ago you were an Office Manager."
That shuts you up and you concentrate instead on maintaining your balance and keeping your fear to a manageable level. You assume that whatever their destination it will be nearby but the truck careens speedily about for what feels like hours. You exchange no more words with the woman holding you captive. She is quiet but alert and the barrel of her rifle never wavers from you. You study her as best you can in the dim light, but her face is hidden by a dark Ninja mask. Her body is slender but not petite. Her clothing reveals nothing other than her general size.
The truck finally slows to a stop and the back doors open. The woman motions you out and you jump down from the truck, sucking in large breaths of the night air, relieved as the scent of aquatic decay replaces the overly sweet smell of donuts, now forever linked in your mind with alarm and misery.
The woman and driver lead you into a nearby building, large and looming, and as you step inside the driver stays back but the woman follows you in. The cavernous inside is inky black except for a pool of yellow light from a desk lamp. And behind the desk is a figure, enigmatic, genderless and unknowable.
It's kismet. Suddenly everything clicks into place, like tumblers falling in a safe and your fear departs.
You walk steadily towards the desk and wait. The woman follows you and stands just behind you and to your right, you can see her motionless form from the corner of your eye, her rifle now relaxed and pointing towards your knees.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THE BOX
"It no longer exists."
THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE
"My ex-wife destroyed it."
IT CAN NOT BE DESTROYED
"She attacked it with a hatchet and then threw it into a trash dumpster. It's gone."
YOU MUST RETURN IT
The figure motions to the woman. She nods and once more raises her firearm.
"Go that way." She says and points towards back towards the front door.
"Oh not the fucking donuts again. Come on."
When you hesitate she pokes you with its steely tip. You turn to argue and a sudden pain erupts in your head. Your last thought is "What the..." as you crumple to the floor.
You come to, groggy, and find you can't move your limbs. At first you think you're still unconscious but quickly realize that you're bound. You are spread-eagled on your back with your ankles and wrists tied to bedposts and you're completely naked. You feel vulnerable and exposed. Cool air from a register in the ceiling flows over you, chilling your skin and heightening your awareness of your exposure.
The pain in your head is thankfully gone and you spend a few minutes wondering who hit you. It can't have been the woman, she was in front of you when you turned; it must have been the driver.
Testing the smooth ropes that bind you, you find that pulling against them is of no avail. You wonder how long you will have to wait until someone comes into the room with you. You wonder what their plans are for you. You wonder who removed your clothes and tied you up. Was it the woman? You hope it was she and not a man. Oh God, you think, please don't let a man walk in here with me naked and tied up. Your mind pictures a beefy, rock-faced brute walking in with a smile on his face as he unzips his pants
You're scared again. Scared and very worried about what will happen next, the fear highlighted by your helplessness and nudity. You start wishing you could somehow pull your cock and balls into or under your body instead of having them up there and so...easily available. You start picturing large metal objects with sharp blades and realize that you're very close to panicking but your struggle against the ropes that bind you only succeeds in tightening them.
The door opens. In walks the ninja woman and your relief is palpable.
She walks to the side of your bed and looks down at you, silently, her head turning as she takes in every inch of your body, slowly, head to toe. Goosebumps rise on your skin and you feel vulnerable yet strangely excited too by her perusal of your naked body.
"You refused to give the location of the box."
"No, I told the truth. My ex-wife destroyed it and threw it away. It's probably at the city dump by now."
"You refused to give the location of the box and now you have to face the consequences."
"Effective consequences." She leans over until her eyes, still hidden from you behind her mask, are inches from yours and slowly runs one hand down your chest, over your navel and your lower stomach until she reaches your penis and slowly circles the tip with her finger. "You'll sing like a bird before I'm done with you."
Your testicles try to shrink up into your body. Somehow you knew it was going to have something to do with your penis. Please don't let her cut it off, please don't let her cut it off you begin praying.
"This is your last chance. Tell me know what we want to know and I'll release you. Otherwise..."
She straightens up and pulls off her hood in one motion, revealing her lovely face as her long brown hair tumbles down past her shoulders. Her blue-grey eyes meet yours and you whisper her name.
One side of her mouth twists up in amusement. "'fraid you got the wrong girl. I'm not Betty; I'm the agent who's going to torture you."
She steps back from the bed and reaches behind her back loosening the top of her ninja garment. You watch as she lifts it over her head and throws it on the floor, leaving her shoulders bare above the lacy black top of her camisole. She puts her hands on her breasts, squeezing them gently and then running her hands over them in circles before concentrating on her nipples, making them rise prominently beneath the silk fabric.
You watch; fascinated, confused and feeling slightly more hopeful that you'll get to retain your dick.
She begins slowly rocking her hips, tilting her head to one side, eyes closed, as she continues playing with her nipples. One hand snakes slowly down her flat stomach and under the waistline of her pants; you can see the outline of her hand beneath the dark fabric as she pushes it down to cup her mound. She moans softly as she begins to rub herself.
She opens her eyes and stops her hips in mid-motion. "Are you ready to spill your guts yet?"
She sighs. "I guess not."
Now keeping her eyes focused on you she begins rubbing herself between her legs in motion with rocking her pelvis backwards and forwards. Her eyes drift shut as she moves, the hand on her breast slowing down as she concentrates on rubbing her mound. Her tongue licks her lips. She pulls her hand up from beneath her pants and turns her back to you, bending slightly at the waist and slipping her thumbs under the waistline of her pants on either side. You watch as she slowly pulls them down, past her hips and the rounded curves of her ass until they slip over her thighs and fall in a soft whisper of cloth to her ankles. She kicks them off, her back still towards you, and you stare from the tiny triangle top of her black thong to the point where the string disappears between the rounded cheeks of her ass.
She straightens and turns her head to look back at you, one hand on her hip in a pose reminiscent of another Betty. Her gaze falls to your cock, standing at attention, between your legs. "Had enough?"
"Hell no. Keep going."
"You think you're a tough guy, huh? I've broken stronger men than you. You won't be able to hold out much longer."
"Wait a minute." You laugh. "Are you trying to tell me that THIS is the torture?"
Her brow furrows in annoyance, as she turns further toward you. "Of course it is. What do you think I'm doing, playing games here? Don't try to pretend this isn't getting to you when I can plainly see your reaction pointing up there. Where is the box?"
"I'm not telling you anything. You're going to have to work a lot harder than this to get any information out of me."
"I'm warning you. I can go as long as it takes."
"I'm counting on it, doll."
She narrows her eyes slightly, trying to intimidate you with her glance, but it doesn't work. She's too pretty and it's impossible to feel anything but horny, as you look at her curvaceous body in a black thong and camisole.
She tosses her hair, and then pulls it up from her shoulders and neck, holding the brown tresses behind her head with one hand. You admire her slender neck and the curvature of her shoulders before she releases them again to fall again down her back.
She turns her back to you again and slowly bends over. Her legs are long and lean, her calves taut even without heels. She runs her hands up and down the cheeks of her ass before she pulls the string of her black thong slowly down. Carefully removing the thong she throws it behind her. It lands beside you, near enough for you to smell her scent. You lose yourself for a moment in thoughts of licking the crotch, wishing that it had landed over your face.
Turning her head so that you can see her actions she pushes an index finger into her mouth and sucks on it before pulling it very slowly back out. She puts her hand at the top of her ass and runs her wet finger slowly down between her cheeks. She rests it on her button. Her hips begin rocking again.
You groan and start rocking yours, aching for something to rub against your cock. She looks into your eyes, her expression dreamy as she pushes her finger into her ass. She moans and her knees begin to bend. You can see her other hand, peeking out from beneath her legs as she rubs her pussy and the light catches the gleam of moisture there. Her finger begins to disappear into her ass, first the tip, then further, past her knuckle.
Oh God, you want this so bad. She's so hot. You're so horny. It feels like you're going to die without any kind of release.
"Come closer," you say breathily. "I want to see you closer."
She pulls her hands away and looks at you, her eyelids half closed with desire. She climbs up on the bed, straddling your hips with her thighs. Reaching under her camisole she pulls out first one, then the other breast so that they are resting on top of the lace, the fabric pulled tight beneath them. Her nipples are hard, her areola many shades lighter than the brown of her hair and the skin on her breasts is creamy white. You want them in your mouth, under your hand, crushed against your chest.
She puts both hands between her legs and pulls apart her lips, exposing the pink, wet flesh inside of her outer lips. Once again she begins rubbing herself, ignoring your presence as she pleasures herself, her breathing faster, her lovely breasts heaving up and down. The fingers on both of her hands are wet from her juices. You can see her clit peeking out from beneath its hood and you long to pull it into your mouth; taste her.
Just when you think she is about to cum she falls forward, catching herself with her breasts just inches from your face. Her nipples point straight towards you. This close up you can see the tiny goose bumps on her areola and the way they're slightly puckered near the nipples. Her breasts look soft and heavy.
"Come closer, I want to touch you."
"Yes, come closer." You push up with your hips but she is agonizingly out of reach. "I need to feel you"
"YES! Oh God, you have to come closer. You're torturing me."
Her lips curve up in a wry smile. "That's the point, Joe. Where is the box?"
She scoots her body further up the bed so that her pussy is right above your face, close enough that you can smell her musky scent, close enough that you can see each drop of moisture. She's still rocking her hips; each movement brings her closer to you though still tantalizingly out of reach.
You know she isn't faking her desire. She has to want release as badly as you do.
"Come just a little bit closer baby, hmmm, I won't hurt you. Just a little bit closer so I can lick you."
"Ohhh," she moans in a soft and sexy voice. "No, I can't ... the box..."
"Closer" you whisper. "I'll make you cum."
She lowers her pussy closer to your face. You reach out with your tongue, finally making contact and she gasps. Her taste is wonderful, the sweetest you've ever known. As your warm tongue plies up and down her open lips she pushes down further, but only for a moment before she pulls up, out of your reach, again. You strain against the ropes, trying desperately to gain another inch but they hold you tight. She pulls up again and you watch her slide her knees further down your body so that they are alongside your thighs. Her arms are still on either side of your neck as she lowers her face towards you. Her hair rubs softly against your shoulders and neck.
With her lips just above yours she whispers, "Joe...I want you."
"I want to fuck you, hard."
"I want to slide down over your cock until you are as deep inside me as you can go. Then I'll slide up and down, again and again, and it will feel soooo good to both of us."
"Yes, oh yes."
"Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes, you know I do. Now, do it now."
"Ohhh, yes. I'm so close to cumming. I want to make you cum, feel you cum inside me."
"God yes! Fuck me now!"
"Joe... where is the box?"
"Aaaaarrrrrgggggg!" You yell in frustration. "I don't have the damned box! I don't know where the damned box is! I don't care if it lives or dies! I just want you!"
She pulls away from your face and bending her head, trails her long hair down your neck, chest, and stomach until she is brushing it against your cock, the locks sweeping over you as she gently turns her head from side to side. Even that slight sensation electrifies you. You moan, feeling every individual hair as it touches your aching cock. She lowers her face and licks the head, swirling her tongue around until it is covered with a mixture of her saliva and your precum. Her tongue is warm. You want more of it but she pulls back and blows across the wetted head. Every nerve in your body is centered on the tip of your cock, waiting, hoping that she will do more, give you the friction you so desperately need.
"I can't do this anymore. It isn't fair."
You sigh in relief.
"If I don't cum soon I'm going to explode." She says as she rises from the bed and hurries towards the door.
"But wait! What about me? Don't leave..." The door shuts behind her "...me."
You lie and wait. The room is quiet except for your breathing and the distant sound of the air conditioning unit. You try the ropes again but to no avail. You look at the door, willing her to walk back through it. Seconds tick past: ten, twenty, sixty.
The door flies open and she appears: a large purple dildo in her hand.
"I can't scoot over. I'm tied up."
"Then hold still and be quiet will you? I'm in kind of a hurry here."
She crawls over you and throws herself on the bed beside you, spreading her legs wide. Closing her eyes she poises the dildo at the entrance of her pussy. With one hand she spreads her outer lips, showing her wet, pink inner ones while with the other she pushes in the dildo, making it disappear slowly inside her. Once she has it halfway inside she pulls it out slowly and you can see her moisture coating the hard surface. She pushes it in and out again several times but you can tell by the expression on her face that she isn't getting a lot of pleasure from it.