An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 07byturtle_writes©
There is no alarm clock which yet exists that is more effective at dragging one from the depths of slumber than a hard and determined cock being thrust deep into one's body.
I woke with a scream, part surprise, part pain, part raw carnal pleasure. Instantly, his hands were on my wrists, pinning them above my head, holding them down to the bed. His hips moved, and I felt him thrust into me again. He was rock-hard inside me, and I felt him push almost too deep into me. I squirmed and tried to push him away; the hard steel of handcuffs encircled my wrists, limiting my ability to resist. "Hush. Take it!"
At his words, I fell into the magical place where I belonged to him, body and spirit. I clenched and arched my back, driving him deeper into me.
"That's it," he said, and his fingers curled tighter around my wrists, unyielding, pressing steel tighter. "Take it!"
I cried out and twisted beneath him, and slammed my hips against him, surrendering to him even as I struggled. I felt him painfully deep, and wanted him to take me harder still. "It hurts!" I wailed. "Please, please let me come!"
"No!" The word came as explosive as a slap. He bore down on me with his full weight and clamped his hand over my mouth. I squirmed helpless in his grasp, powerless to prevent what he was doing to me. He leaned over me and looked into my eyes as he took me with a raw, savage, animal passion. "Give yourself to me."
Reason vanished, and in its place rose unthinking carnal need. I arched my back and spread my legs wide to receive him, my body soft curves and submission, giving myself up to his demands. I slammed my hips against his to meet his thrusts. His hand muffled my cries. I parted my lips, opened my mouth, drew his fingertips in, caressed them with warm wet tongue. The simple act was an offer and a promise, to give every part of my body to him willingly, to use for his own pleasure.
He accepted my invitation and thrust two fingers into my mouth. I moaned and wrapped my lips around them, and spread my legs further. He looked down at me, and something wild and animal, something I hadn't seen before, moved behind his eyes.
"Are you mine?" he growled.
I looked up at him and nodded.
"Are you my slave? Are you my fuck-toy, to do whatever I want?"
I shuddered and quivered beneath him and moaned.
He pressed himself down onto mine, and I felt his weight and his heat against my naked, pliant body. "Show me."
I reached my hands high over my head and gripped the wrought iron of the headboard. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, pushing him deeper into me. My tongue swirled against his fingers, welcoming their intrusion into my mouth. Then, very slowly, I closed my eyes and turned myself over to him.
He took me hard, fast, and rough. His rigid cock thrust deep, hurting me; I tightened my legs around his hips and drove him deeper. He shoved his fingers into my mouth, choking me; I tilted my head back and took them farther down my throat. In that moment, every part of my body-my breasts, the sweat on my skin, the curves of my thighs, the firm roundness of my breasts pressed flat beneath his body, my soft sucking mouth, the sopping wetness of my cunt-existed only for his pleasure. I gave my body up to him willingly, eagerly, wanting him to use me, possess me, penetrate me, drive himself to ecstasy inside me...
I writhed under his assault, and bucked my hips against every thrust. My fingers curled against the head of the bed as I turned myself over to him. He grunted and cried out, and molten fire gushed within me. I screamed and clamped down hard, milking every bit of heat from him.
It was over. He slipped from me and withdrew his fingers from my mouth. I whimpered and lay still, arms still over my head and legs wide apart. A fine sheen of sweat clung to us both. "Did you enjoy using my body?"
"I did," he said.
I brought my hands, still bound by the steel cuffs he'd clamped on me last night, down between my legs and felt him dripping out of me. I looked up at him and opened my mouth wide in offering. He smiled and repositioned himself over me, then slipped his glistening wet cock between my lips. I closed my eyes as I savored the feel of his penis in my mouth, tasting the musky flavor of our mingled juices. Carefully, thoroughly, I began licking him clean. My fingers probed further, slipping down between my lips and spreading them open. I felt more wetness drip from me,, warm and slippery, and was consumed with a ravenous desire to be filled again. I shoved two fingers into myself and masturbated vigorously, plunging them deep, as I ran my tongue down the length of his softening penis.
He let me clean him with my mouth until he was satisfied that every last trace of our sex was gone. When he withdrew, he had gone completely soft. I whimpered, and he looked down at me with a crooked smile. "Now, now. Don't be greedy. Tonight's going to be a busy night! I have plenty of things in store for you, believe me." He caught my wrists in his hands and gently took my hands away from myself. Later on this evening I've promised Jason I'd go over to his place for dinner, and..." He arched an eyebrow as he caught my expression. "Don't give me that look! There will be plenty for you to be doing-and no, you can't come with me." He winked, a gesture that always melts my heart, and kissed the backs of my hands. "Let me uncuff you."
He reached over to the nightstand and picked up the handcuff key. "That is, if you think you deserve to be uncuffed," he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Are you a good girl?"
I drew my hands away from him and smiled, impish. "Absolutely not!" I said coquettishly. "I'm a dirty, filthy, naughty girl!"
He laughed. "I can't argue with that! Come here, dirty girl." He unlocked the cuffs and I rubbed my wrists.
He rose from the bed. I swung my legs around and sat on the edge of the bed looking up at him coyly. "Did you like using my body?" I asked sweetly.
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You were...adequate."
I laughed. "Adequate, was I?" I stood and stretched, and arched my body against his. "Only adequate?" I teased. I took his hands in mine and placed them over my breasts. "How about this part of me? Did it meet your expectations? Was it adequate?" I squeezed, pressing his hands into my breasts, feeling my nipples harden against his palm.
The tiny smile again. "Yes. Most adequate."
"And here?" I slid his hand slowly down my body, over my smooth-shaven mound, and pressed his finger into my dripping, freshly-fucked wetness. Pleasure rippled through my body, and I moaned softly. "Did this part of my body suit your needs?"
"It did," he said. He wriggled the tip of his finger slightly, and I moaned again. "This part of your body was pleasing to me."
I took his hand and raised it to my lips. "And how about this part? Did I clean you up well after you took pleasure from using me?" I touched the tip of his index finger, thickly coated with juices, with my tongue, and very, very slowly parted my lips. I gazed into his eyes to savor his reaction as I took his finger into my mouth. He tried to suppress his shudder; his eyelids fluttered. I sank to my knees in front of him and took his hand in both of mine, then held it still as I worked his finger with my mouth. I bobbed my head as I sucked and slurped and moaned around his finger. His cock twitched and stirred. I smiled and sucked his finger deeper.
"Enough!" he said. His voice hovered somewhere between a laugh and a moan. "Sand up. If I let you keep that up, we'll never get going this morning, and we have things to do."
"Like me?" I asked innocently.
He laughed and lifted me bodily to my feet. "You are insatiable this morning! I'm going to have to strip you in public, cuff you, and deny you the right to orgasm more often!" He placed his hands on my shoulders and gripped tightly. The strange animal light came back into his eyes. "Do you like giving your body to me? You enjoy doing what I say?"
I caught my breath. A surge of excitement, tinged with fear, swept over me; I had never seen him quite this animalistic. His normal controlled, rational self seemed to be crumbling, revealing...something else. I had a sense that we were venturing into uncharted territory, and the thought made my heart pound.
"Yes," I squeaked..
"Good," he said, and released me. A strange feeling crept into my mind-a feeling like I had just agreed to something, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. "Now, get cleaned up. I have an errand for you to run this afternoon." He left the room before I could ask him any questions.
I followed him out and crossed into the bathroom. As I turned on the water, I felt my heart beat faster and my breathing grow ragged, and I smiled. So subtly, so gently, so skillfully had Robert and Jason manipulated my responses, so deliberately had they taken me, so often had they required ritual masturbation in the shower as part of my normal routine, that now merely the act of stepping into the bathroom aroused me. Together, they had created an indelible association in my mind between this simple thing and sex.
I stepped under the water and let it pour around me, eyes closed. Even this, I thought, had become a sexual act. I soaped myself leisurely; the sensations, the caress on my skin, sent little pulses of pleasure vibrating through my body. I wondered, had they conspired to do this to me, or was it just a happy confluence of their own individual tastes, their own unique appreciation of the naked and wet female form?
The question made me laugh again, this time at myself. "Way to over-think things, Jackie!" I said aloud. I placed my fingers between my legs and thrust them inside me over and over until my knees buckled and the heat burned away my reason, in the mandatory little ritual Robert required of me.
I finished the shower a frenzy of hunger and need. I stepped dripping from the stall and toweled myself dry. I wrapped myself in the towel and turned toward the door, and jumped, startled to see Robert leaning nude against the doorjamb. He had dragged a rolling office chair out of the den and parked it behind him in the hallway.
"Are you all clean?"
"At least on the outside," I answered.
"Good. Let's see." He rolled the chair into the bathroom, then stood in front of me. He hooked his finger in the towel and pulled it from me. That strange wild light was still in his eyes. "Stand up straight. Hands behind your back. Present yourself for inspection."
I opened my mouth, then caught that look in his eye. Instantly, I straightened and put my hands behind my back.
"Good. Shoulders back." He nudged my ankles with his foot. "Legs apart."
I complied instantly. I felt vulnerable, standing before him this way, breasts jutting out, hands held behind me, exposed in a way I did not completely understand. He'd seen every part of me countless times before, of course, but still... Something about standing here this way, presenting myself before him like this, made me feel uniquely naked.
And the feeling turned me on.
My nipples grew hard as stone. I felt a twitching between my legs, and butterflies, sexual longing with a tiny edge of fear, in my stomach. He stood beside me, leaned close. His hand caught my chin and tilted my head to one side. He swept my long damp hair back, and looked behind my ears. "Did you clean back here?"
I gulped and nodded. He grunted and tilted my head back,; his fingers ran through my hair, inspecting my scalp. Apparently, what he saw satisfied him, for his fingers moved down the side of my face. He forced my head up and examined my chin and the hollow of my throat. "You scrubbed here too, I trust."
"Yes," I squeaked.
"Good." He placed one hand on my back, between my shoulders, and with his other he began examining my breast. His hand worked its way under my breast, then up over the top, fingers probing and pushing uncomfortably. I felt a surge of strange, tangled emotions; humiliated, objectified by his clinical detachment, but also treasured, like a valued possession, highly prized by its owner. His face was expressionless, distant; but that feral light in his eyes, his rock-solid erection, his raspy breathing all spoke of the way he was taking pleasure from this. "You washed your breasts well, I see. No sign of the words you wrote on them before."
His hand moved in a slow spiral around my breast to my aching nipple. His fingers stroked and caressed it; I sighed involuntary and pressed my breast into his hand.
"Do you like that?" he asked.
"Oh, God, yes," I sighed.
He made another noncommittal sound and moved his hand to my other breast. As he pushed and prodded, I felt my face grow hot. "What are you-"
"Silence," he said. His fingers made another slow spiral, examining me almost as though I were a patient in a medical clinic. I flushed hotter, feeling more humiliated by the casual way he'd cut me off. I endured his touch in silence, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing me sigh or moan.
"Let's continue, shall we?" He drew up the chair and sat down in front of me. His fingers stroked my sides, my stomach; one fingertip probed my navel obscenely. "How about here? Did you soap up your bellybutton?"
"Yes, I did," I said flatly.
His hand descended further, palm running flat over my mound. "Did you shave?"
I shuddered slightly. "No. I shaved yesterday."
"I see." His fingers lightly touched my labial lips. "Are you wet?"
For an instant, I considered telling him to see for himself; at the last moment, I changed my mind. "Yes. Yes, I am."
He leaned forward in the chair to get a closer view, and slid his fingers between my lips, parting them. With that same cold, clinical detachment, he spread me open and pushed a finger inside. I could not stop myself from whimpering softly and moving my hips against his hand. "Yes, you are," he said. "Did you wash yourself here?"
I arched my back. "Yes."
"Did you like it? Did it feel good?" His finger probed deeper; I struggled to control the sensations.
"Yes. God, it felt good..."
"Did it make you want to come?"
"Do you want to come right now?"
I undulated my hips in slow, rolling waves, riding his finger. "Yes. Please!"
"Hm." He withdrew his finger, and I mewled my disappointment. His hands found my hips and turned me around to face away from him. I felt his touch on the small of my back, then the warmth f his hands sliding over my buttocks. "Did you make sure to clean yourself here?"
I nodded and looked down. "Yes, I did," I said meekly.
He parted my ass cheeks with both hands. Humiliation burned inside me as he placed his finger against the bud of my ass. "What about here?" The digit entered me partway. "Did you wash here?"
My face burned with shame. "No! No, I didn't. I didn't know..."
He straightened and took his hands off of me. "Well, then," he said,. He rose from the chair and turned away, toward the sink. "Turn around. Open your legs wider and keep your hands behind your back." He gathered up the body sponge, the soap, and a razor. Without turning toward me, he said, "I want you to hold still."
I turned back toward him and watched as he ran the water in the sink and soaped up the sponge He returned to his place on the chair. Working methodically, he lathered my pubic mound, then carefully and thoroughly shaved me smooth. His hands worked meticulously, gently; he brought the razor down across delicate skin with exquisite care, reaching the smallest and most inaccessible places with patience. I murmured quietly and relaxed into the sensuality of his touch, the warmth on my skin, the rhythmic motion of the razor. Time stood still and I lost myself in his intimate attention.
He worked without haste, shaving me several times; first down, moving with the direction of the hairs, then across, then up. I sighed with pleasure and held very still under his touch.
Eventually, he was finished. He wiped me dry with a soft towel, then ran his hand very gently up and down over my skin. I moaned softly under that gentle caress.
"Much better," he said. "You're as smooth as silk. Lovely." Warm breath, the feel of soft lips as he planted a kiss on my mound. "Now there's only one thing left to do."
He stood again and rolled the chair back out into the hall, then knelt and opened the cabinet under the sink. When he turned back, my eyes widened at what he held: a long, shiny, coiled hose, with a screw base on one end and a wide, flared nozzle on the other. I felt my heart skip a beat.
"Oh, no." I shook my head. "No, no, no. Not that..."
"Oh, yes. That." He closed the bathroom door, then shot me a look, one eyebrow arched, as if daring me to try to leave.
My eyes flicked up toward the camera mounted over the door. He gazed levelly at me, reading my thoughts. "Yes, I'm sure Jason's probably watching." Slight smile. "He really enjoys watching you. Almost as much as he likes fucking you." He uncoiled the hose and with a few deft movements, connected the end to the faucet in the sink. He turned on the water, and a thin stream flowed from the end of the nozzle. "Turn around."
"Nooooo! Please!" Intense, fiery shame gripped me.
"Jacqueline Lynn Hathaway," he said calmly, enunciating each word clearly. "Turn around right now. Put your hands on top of your head. Spread your legs apart. Bend over and touch your nose to the wall."
Stunned speechless, I turned slowly toward the wall. My hands felt like lead as I raised them to my head. I stood with my legs apart, and leaned forward until my nose just touched the cold tile wall. My eyes brimmed with tears.
"Open your legs wider."
I complied, feeling awkward and off-balance.
I moved my legs apart further still. In this position, I felt helpless, unable to prevent what he was about to do to me. The tears spilled over and ran down my cheeks. Jason is watching, he's going to see me this way...
"Good." I felt Robert's hand spreading my ass cheeks, felt a stream of warm water against my skin. Something hard and unyielding pressed against my ass. "Relax."
Firm, steady pressure. I resisted for a moment, then felt the smooth metal nozzle stretching me open. Water poured down my thigh. More pressure, a sense of widening, and I felt my ass open up to the invasion. I cried out as I took the nozzle inside, and felt warmth spreading within me.
His arms reached around me from behind. One hand slid flat over my belly; the other moved down, between my legs. I felt more pressure, and a sense of violation as his fingers slid into my cunt. "Tell me when it's too much."
The warmth began to fill me. I whimpered and writhed on Robert's fingers. "That's it," he said. "That feels good, doesn't it?" His fingers moved inside me, and I shuddered and squirmed and moaned through my tears. Little ripples of pleasure radiated outward from where his fingers worked their magic, and my responses only intensified the humiliation.
He pressed his palm flat against my stomach, and the warmth inside me grew, together with a growing pressure. I tried to twist my hips away; his arms caged me, preventing me from moving. I imagined how I must look, leaning naked against the wall with the hose protruding ignobly from me and connected to the faucet, with Robert's fingers shoved up inside me, and felt my body flush with embarrassment. "No," I whispered plaintively.
His fingers worked faster. I caught my breath and moaned again. The warmth and pressure and a feeling of fullness increased steadily, slowly, in my belly. With gentle pressure, he slid his thumb up over my clit and moved it in little half-circles. I pressed my hips forward and let the pleasure run through me. His fingers moved deeper, and I thrust my hips against them, wanting more.