An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 06

Then he was finished and he withdrew from me without warning. I cried out, suddenly empty, and felt his come spill out of me. I remained there, leaning over the desk, gasping, wanting him so desperately to plunge into me again, fill me, take me roughly, grant me release. "Please... please..."

He slid my panties back into place. "Not now. I have a surprise for you. Look down."

"What kind of surprise?" I asked, with more than a hint of trepidation.

"Look!"

I looked at the assortment of papers and books on the desk beneath me, a little off-stride. "I don't get it-oh!"

There, sitting on top of a stack of papers, two long, thin cardboard rectangles-tickets, to the performing arts center. "You didn't!"

I did," he said smugly. "I also got us reservations at a restaurant downtown. We need to go in-" He looked at his watch. "Right now. Come on."

"I need to take a shower first. In case you hadn't noticed, I've just been fucked, and I'm a little messy."

"No. No time." He zipped his pants and smirked. "We need to leave right now."

"Robert! I'm-"

"-a dripping, come-filled mess," he finished. The smug, self-satisfied grin widened. "And I'm hungry. Let's go."

'You look awfully pleased with yourself, " I said. He didn't answer; I straightened, and felt his warm wet begin to drip out of me almost immediately. "I hope you're satisfied." I ached with need and frustration.

"I'm sure I will be," he smirked.

The drive downtown was uneventful at first. Robert navigated us toward the freeway in silence, still wearing that maddening smirk. I squirmed on the leather seat and struggled to keep my composure.

We pulled onto the freeway and merged into traffic. I looked out the window into darkness, and watched the other cars stream around us. His hand touched my knee. "You are so sexy," he said, and gently coaxed my knees apart. I obliged him, and spread my legs wide in the car seat beside him.

"Two fingers inside yourself."

I closed my eyes and settled back in the seat. I slid my hands down my body, over my breasts, and felt my heat through my blouse. I shivered in anticipation as my hands crept lower. I slipped one hand up my thigh, under my skirt, and I felt my breath quicken. My fingers caressed my panties, completely soaked through. I leaned back further and let my fingers slide my panties aside. I sighed, my fingers poised quivering at the entrance to my dripping wet opening, and slowly, slowly pressed them in.

"Mmmm." I moaned softly.

"Does it feel good?"

"Oh, yes."

"Move your fingers."

I began working my fingers in long, slow, soft strokes. Time contracted around me; I heard the wind rushing by outside the car, felt the movement and vibration, felt the wetness around my fingers, sensed his nearness next to me, felt the heat and weight of his hand on my knee, heard the steady soft sounds of his breathing and my own heart beating. The world folded close around me in this small, intimate space; no cameras, no watching eyes, just the two of us and the moving darkness outside. I felt owned, possessed, cherished, loved. My fingers, extensions of his will, moved in circles within me. "May I?"

"No."

I accepted the denial without disappointment or regret. It seemed fitting, in this warm intimate space; I was his lover, his plaything, his toy, exactly as I wanted to be. My fingers continued their leisurely strokes, drawing a shudder at each delicious thrust. My sighs filled the car, and I heard his breathing quicken, sexual energy vibrating between us like a plucked cord.

I remained there in that place as he turned off the freeway and guided the car through the narrow downtown streets. He maneuvered the car into a parking space along the street. "Stop now."

I slid my fingers out of myself with a tiny sharp pang of disappointment. They were thickly coated in a white sheen of his come and my own excitement. "Clean them," he commanded. Without hesitation, I put them in my mouth, savoring the combined taste.

He got out and walked around the car as I licked my fingers clean, and opened my door for me. I hook his arm, and his hand casually grazed my nipple as I stood, drawing a gasp from me. He escorted me into the restaurant, and I flushed, keenly aware of my arousal. Inside, Robert spoke with the maitre d,' who seemed more inclined to look at my breasts than at him. I flushed again, suddenly self-conscious of how they swayed freely beneath my blouse, and how prominently my erect nipples stood. I moved to step behind Robert, but he seemed to anticipate me almost telepathically; smoothly, subtly, he slipped his hand behind my back and drew me alongside him, preventing me from hiding, presenting me to the leering eyes of the restaurant host. I struggled not to squirm or betray any outside sign of my discomfort. Inwardly, my emotions roiled, just as they had when I first found out that Robert had exposed me to Jason.

An eternity passed. Finally, the maitre d' was satisfied with the state of Robert's reservations, and escorted us to a small, secluded booth. With a last lingering glance at my breasts, he departed. Robert smiled at me across the table. "You look ravishing, my dear. Everyone who sees you wants to fuck you."

I blushed and looked down, pretending to study the wine list.

Our server arrived, an attractive young woman with long blond hair and a bright, cheerful disposition. Robert flirted outrageously with her, asked her questions about wine and the day's specials, and generally made himself charming as hell. The distraction gave me a chance to pull together some of my composure, and by the time he'd ordered wine and appetizers, the embarrassment and arousal had cooled to a background buzz.

The wine came, followed by appetizers. Robert poured me a glass, then another. By the time the food arrived, I was enveloped in the warm glow of my third. He gazed levelly at me and refilled my glass.

"My dear sir," I giggled, lightheaded and floaty, "are you attempting to intoxicate me so as to take advantage of me?"

His eyes did not leave mine, and his face betrayed nothing. I felt his foot, bare, slide up my shin and nudge my legs apart. I spread them open for him, and his foot grazed my inner thigh, then moved higher. Soon his toe pressed against the source of my dampness. I sighed and closed my eyes, and spread my legs still further, offering myself to him. His toe pressed firmly against my most sensitive places, and I pressed myself to him and moaned. Heat and need and desire took hold, and for a moment I pictured myself crawling beneath the table, seeking what I knew I would find, my hands unzipping his pants, lips and tongue ready for his cock...

"Look at you," he said. "You need it so badly. You want to be laid out and fucked right here, don't you?" His toe followed the line of my panties, up over my clit. "Answer me."

"Yes," I sighed. "That is exactly what I want."

"Would you like anything else?"

My eyes flew open. The cheerful blonde waitress stood next to the table. If she'd heard our exchange, her face didn't show it. She stood politely, waiting for me to answer.

I flushed crimson. "What? I-" Robert's toe continued to move distracting against me. "No, no, I'm fine, thanks."

"And you, sir?"

His nimble toes pulled my panties aside, and I shuddered as his big toe penetrated me partway. "I'm fine, too, thanks," he said pleasantly.

She smiled and moved off. My face burned hot. "Why do you do that to me?" I sputtered.

"Because you love it," he answered. His feet pushed my legs farther apart, and his toe returned to the business of teasing and tormenting me. I gasped a little and sighed again involuntarily. My arousal had a new edge to it; even as I pressed myself to his toe, I could not shake the feeling that this was obvious, that everyone in the restaurant must know what he was doing to me.

He continued throughout the rest of the meal. I felt playful and slutty and deliciously naughty, as he had sex with me in this oblique way right in the middle of the crowded restaurant. By the time the plates had been cleared away and my last glass of wine had been finished, I no longer cared if the waitstaff realized what we were doing. Robert played me expertly, keeping me hovering on the edge of losing control without ever losing control of me, letting me keep just enough composure for the sake of decorum while inwardly I roiled and whimpered and begged to be fucked.

Finally the check arrived, and his toe slipped away. He smiled at my response. "You look so disappointed, Jackie!" He proffered his credit card, signed the check, and rose. "Shall we?" As he offered me his arm, one hand lightly brushed my cheek, and his fingers trailed over my lips. He pushed a fingertip into my mouth, briefly, causing my heart to flutter, and he smiled at my whimper. "Let's go."

I expected him to lead me to the car, but instead he turned down the sidewalk. "It's a gorgeous evening, and the performing arts center is only a few blocks away. Shall we walk?" I pressed against him and he put his arm around my shoulders; the closeness of his body amplified my longing.

Our destination was, as promised, only a few blocks away. The street was only sparsely populated; most of the businesses-upscale designer stores, a couple of jewelry stores, a Lexus dealership-were closed for the night. We joined a small cluster of well-dressed men and women outside the center; Robert had controlled the timing of our arrival as precisely as he'd controlled everything else this evening, and the patrons were just being seated.

To this day, I have no idea what play we saw.

The crowd was light; the seats immediately around us were vacant. Robert rested his hand on my bare knee, and as the lights over the audience went down, his hand crept, imperceptibly at first, up my leg. Just that light touch was an almost unbearable distraction, causing the performance on the stage to recede far into the distance. Every so often, Robert would lean close to me, his breath hot on my cheek, and whisper into my ear, calling me filthy names. I squirmed and fidgeted in my seat and longed for him.

It went on and on and on, that teasing. His fingers lightly stroked my thigh, his quiet voice murmured hints and promises of obscene pleasures he wished to take from my body, and I sat next to him and quivered with need. Finally, his hand left my knee, and his arm slipped around my shoulders. "Why, Jackie, you look to be in quite a state," he said casually. "I bet you'd like to come this evening, wouldn't you?"

The audience stirred; somewhere far away, on a tiny stage too distant to be concerned with, things seemed to be wrapping up. "Yes!" I said, louder than I'd intended.

His hand gripped my hair and pulled, painfully hard. He leaned very close and his tongue flicked for an instant against my earlobe. "Come, then," he whispered. "Right now." His grip tightened in my hair. "Come for me! Do it! Show me! Let it happen! Come for me!"

I gripped the edge of my seat and threw my head back. His words sent a powerful wave of contractions through the walls of my cunt, and before he had even finished speaking, I was in the grip of a powerful orgasm. My back arched so powerfully that my hips came entirely out of the seat. All around me, the audience surged to its feet and broke out in applause. For a brief irrational moment, I thought everyone was watching me, applauding at how hard I was coming...

...then it was over, and I collapsed spent back into the seat. I realized the play had ended, and the audience was applauding the actors' performance, not mine. My body was bathed in sweat, and wetness poured from between my legs. I moaned and turned to face Robert, and kissed him deeply, frantically. "Oh my God, I can't believe I just did that! I came so hard, you have no idea..."

e smirked, with that same infuriatingly smug expression he'd had back at the house. "Oh, I think I do have an idea," he said, and winked. "Whore."

The lights came up. People began streaming from the theater. I rose and leaned heavily against Robert, barely able to walk. I continued to lean against him, half in a daze, as we stepped into the cool night air; between the wine and what had just happened in the theater, I felt almost drugged.

When we reached the car, he opened he passenger door for me. "Have you had a good evening?"

"Mmm, yes," I purred, "wonderful."

"Ah, good. Good." He reached into the car and reclined the passenger seat back as far as it would go. "But there's something I need to tell you." He opened the glove compartment, rummaged around inside for a moment, then straightened and turned to me. "It's not over yet." He took my hands in his, and I heard a metallic rasping sound and felt something cold and hard on my wrists. I looked down in surprise and saw that my wrists were handcuffed together. "I need to take you home and treat you like the fuck-slut you are."

I opened my mouth to reply. Instantly, he grabbed my hair and shoved the penis-shaped gag in my mouth. Hands still tight in my hair, he fastened it behind my head. I let out a muffled "mmf!" of surprise, and tried to pull away, my eyes wide, looking around the street frantically. No passers-by in sight, but that didn't keep me from feeling exposed and vulnerable. His held me firmly as his hand moved quickly; he unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it open, exposing me to the night air. I struggled and squirmed in his grip, and he pulled my hair hard and pushed me into the car. "Nggf! Mmmf!"

He closed the door and got in on the other side of the car. I struggled to sit up, and reached awkwardly for the lever that would straighten the seat. He leaned across the center console and slapped my breast sharply. "Behave!" He placed his hand between my breasts and pushed me back into the seat, and pinned me there while his other hand pulled down the zipper of my skirt. "Let me see that juicy cunt of yours." With that, he yanked my skirt and panties down to my ankles.

I whimpered and leaned forward as he released me, reaching for my skirt. He slapped me again, hard, this time directly on my mound. I twisted and screamed around the dildo, and he pushed me back down on the car seat again. "Stop struggling. Behave."

He started the car and pulled out into the street. I whimpered and moaned and tried to curl up on the seat, feeling exposed. His hand gripped my knee painfully tightly. "Lie still. Spread your legs."

He pulled onto the freeway. I lay on the seat in the darkness, hearing the traffic around us, naked and helpless.What if we get into a traffic accident?The rational part of my mind screamed.What if we get pulled over? I turned and reached for my skirt again, and he slapped me, even harder, on my breast. "No," he said sharply. "Don't make me tell you again."

The trip home took an eternity. I could not seem to stop the small muffled sounds coming from the back of my throat, nor keep myself from twisting and writhing on the seat. His hand slapped me sharply whenever I tried to cover up, his palm landing stinging blows on my breasts, thigh, and a couple of times directly on my pussy. Hot tears of shame and pain leaked from my eyes. As we pulled off the freeway and stopped at the traffic light, he leaned over and shoved his fingers roughly into my pussy. "You are my fuck toy," he said. "This is what happens to fuck toys." He withdrew his fingers and showed them to me. "You like it, too. Look how wet you are!" I moaned and turned away.

When we arrived at the house, he pulled smoothly into the driveway and shut off the car. "Stay there." He got out, walked around the car, and opened my door. Before I could react, he reached in and took me by the arm. "Come on. I want to use you now."

He pulled me to my feet. I reached for my the skirt and panties that lay crumpled around my ankles, and he slapped my breast. "No!" He pulled them from around my feet and tossed them back into the car, then grabbed my hair and my arm and marched me, half-naked, cuffed, and gagged, to the front door. I turned crimson as I stood exposed beneath the porch light while he fished his keys out of his pocket. He seemed casual, nonchalant, moving without haste as he unlocked the door, as though standing on the porch with a frantic, struggling, mostly naked woman next to him was the most natural thing in the world, rather than the sort of thing that might be expected to send the neighbors into an uproar.

Finally, he swung the door wide and pushed me through, then took me by the hair again and half-pushed, half-dragged me into the bedroom.

He shoved me down onto my back across the bed, with my head hanging off the far side. He removed my shoes and pulled my legs apart, then stripped off his shoes and pants, revealing his very hard erection. I expected him to take me, thrust his cock roughly into me, and I squirmed in anticipation. He had something else in mind, though.

He walked around the bed and stood over me, for a moment, looking down with that same infuriating smirk. Then he unstrapped the gag and withdrew it from my mouth. "Are you ready?" Before I could say a word, he gripped the sides of my head and thrust into my mouth. I sputtered and thrashed on the bed, but he held me firmly and thrust hard into my mouth over and over. "This is what happens to fuck toys like you," he said. "God, this feels good!" With that, he screamed and erupted in my mouth. I flailed helplessly, caught off guard, and struggled to contain it all. He maintained his hold on me and pushed deeper, and I gurgled and choked, sending some of his come spilling from my mouth.

Finally, he was finished. He slid his cock out of my mouth, and I gulped and swallowed the gooey mess he'd left behind. "Time for bed," he said. He pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, then turned off the light and crawled into the bed next to me."

"But what about-"

He laughed. "You're sleeping cuffed tonight," he said, anticipating the question. He pulled me close to him and drew the covers over us. "I love you," he said. "And I also love fucking you like a whore. And now I'm finished with you for the evening. Better get some sleep; I have an even more busy day planned for you tomorrow, my darling little fuck toy. Good night!"

I lay tossing and turning for a long while, listening to his breathing grow slow and regular as he fell asleep beside me. The day's events-coming hard in the theater, the filthy things I said into the phone as I masturbated so obscenely in my office, the pleasure I'd taken in the thought that Jason could have been watching me this morning-whirled chaotically in my head, preventing sleep. I twisted awkwardly, seeking a comfortable way to lie with my wrists handcuffed in front of me...

...and with a start, realized I'd forgotten to masturbate upon coming to bed as I'd been told.

Instantly, I felt myself twitching, in the warm soft recesses between my legs.You are so easy, the rational voice inside me said, he can play you without even trying... My pulse quickened.All it takes is for you to think about doing as you're told, and you get turned on. Look at you! You really are his fuck toy!

"Yes, I am," I sighed out loud. I brought my hands to my face in the darkness, and stroked my lips lightly with my fingertips, remembering the warmth and texture of his hard cock thrusting into my mouth. I savored the feeling of control he had over me-the physical control of the cold steel handcuffs binding my wrists, the mental control of is commanding voice, telling me what I had to do. I moaned softly, and brought my hands down between my legs.

My fingers found wet slick and throbbing need. Robert had satisfied himself, but left me hungry for more. I needed to be filled, to feel his cock inside me, his hands pinning me down as he took me, not gently, my body soft curves and submission beneath him, accepting his rough pounding...