No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 09

Monty was working at a side table, poring over his laptop. He looked up as she came in and jumped in alarm at her mis-step. He was next to her in a flash, concern on his face.

"It's...I'm okay. It's just that..." she waved her hand at the screen, her face locked onto the image. She couldn't understand how he could be so nonchalant about it. It was such a powerful image. The word triggered an echo of the conversation with Patti.

"Should we stop?" He poured a cup of tea, waiting.

"I...no...I think we shouldn't stop," She put her hand on his, looking into his eyes. "I want to revisit the river tonight. But...I think I should tell you what I talked about with Patti." Just touching his hand triggered a flood of arousal. Suddenly her clothes felt too tight and she knew what she wanted...needed...to do.

They stood sipping tea. She tentatively revealed her thoughts about their power relationship; she wasn't sure how he'd take it. He nodded, completely impassive as she suggested she was powerless, her conflicts about their time together over the weekend and the apparent need she had to 'lose control.' The more she talked about it, the more turned on she got at the idea of watching him ravish her on screen: of using that as a path to the river. She remembered him suggesting it was just part of 'being a human being.' The revulsion she had felt earlier of submitting to him had dulled, worn down by a much stronger need to explore this odd facet of her sexuality she'd never known was there.

She turned to look at herself on the screen and looked back at him, the desire to be that woman winning over the need to stay in control. She looked down at her feet, dropping her hands to her waist.

"I think I need your help, but I don't know how to ask."

He leaned over, lightly kissing her neck, his hands at her shoulders, sliding down to her wrists. As he continued to plant kisses on her neck and chin he started unbuttoning her blouse, pulling it off her. Moments later he had removed her bra as well, her nipples hard in the cool air, her skin free.

"Here," he said, stepping back and gesturing to the front of the room. "You do it." Holding her arm, he walked with her until she stood next to the larger-than-life image of her on the screen. Half naked she stood looking at him, at his waist not his eyes, waiting. She knew he expected her to strip off the remaining bit of clothing. She wasn't sure what was next until she watched him fiddle with the remote and heard the swish of the curtains opening behind her. Her heart jumped; she unhooked her skirt and let it fall.

Even though she knew no one could see in, the windows were audience enough. She stood naked in front of the seats, her bare backside facing the unseen eyes behind her and she waited for him to help her find her way.

She watched him undress, his cock tenting out his briefs and then springing into view. She wanted it inside her – anywhere he chose would be fine, just so that she could feel it. She pressed her legs together, the liquid electricity shooting up her lower spine.

"Come here. Let's watch this together." She saw his hands gesturing her towards him; she was careful not to look higher than his waist. She walked towards the love seat, not sure where he wanted her.

"Turn around."

She turned to see herself strapped on the wall, naked, exposed, her face hidden by the mask. His hands came to her waist pulling her back onto him. He slid his cock into her, spreading her legs so that her clit was exposed.

He moved his arms up along her shoulders, trapping her again, forcing her breasts forward, arching her back. He moved his legs inside hers and spread them wide: wide enough her groin muscles and tendons strained. She was trapped in this position, unable to move, getting no stimulation except the cool air on her nipples and against her wet slit.

He wrapped his right arm around the back of her neck, his hand grabbing her left shoulder. In this position her head was forced down further. She saw his cock buried inside her, her mound pushing out from erection. He slipped his left hand down to the remote.

"I found a few similar pasts," he said into her ear, nibbling her lobe. "I hope you like them."

She groaned as he moved his cock inside her. "Fuck me Monty. Please. Fuck me with your cock. Bring me to the river..." She whimpered the last as he brought the control up where he could see it, rubbing its cool plastic against her breasts.

"What do you want?" He asked it like he'd asked before – like he was serving at a cafeteria.

"I want to 'wade in the river' ohhhh, ahhhh...yess....shit....yessss."

He sat back pulling her with him, spreading her legs wider. Both hands returned to her shoulders, letting her head relax back onto his collar bone. Her back melted against his stomach, his cock penetrated her deeply. In spite of being impaled on it, once again she knew unless he fondled her clit she wouldn't orgasm in this position. She knew he knew it.

The scene on the screen shifted, blurring momentarily. When it came back into focus she gasped, pulsing her cunt against his shaft. She was still manacled to the wall; her cunt filled by the dildo strapped by the harness. Her hair was still fully unshaven, a dark mat glistening between her legs. Everything about the scene was almost identical with two exceptions: the mask wasn't on so Marcie could see her face and the room was filled with people, a few of whom she recognized from the weekend and from the dinner party.

"Noooo...oooh goooddddd, nooo, yes. Yes yes. Shit....please. please."

He had begun to shift inside her, moving his hand to her clit and just lightly tapping on it. Her past self was also shouting as the dildo rubbed inside her, the silver chain pulling on her nipples. Their two voice joined together creating a strange duet.

She felt the white hot fire of her arousal begin to lick up her spine – the memory of her tormentor from the hallucinations almost perfectly overlaid by the fresh images on screen. Monty had changed the point of view from her past-self's perspective looking out onto the audience. It appeared as if the people were looking straight at them, watching her being split open by him on the love seat.

The sounds of her past-self moaning added to the arousal of being exposed so nakedly to these strangers – imaginary, not really seeing her in this room, but definitely watching her on stage – she felt as if she was that woman and the tendril of white arousal thickened and lengthened up to her shoulders.

"Tell them what you want." He moved his pelvis slightly, forcing her open a little wider; at the same time he moved his hands to slip beneath her cheeks.

She groaned a protest – both at the prospect of his stretching her further and at the suggestion. "No..." she whispered, "No...no....yes...god that feels good. I want you to watch me....watch me...get fucked...watch me...." She grunted the words out as he started lifting her off his cock and dropping her down deeper on it.

He kissed her ear and whispered in it. "You want to tell them. You are there for them. They want to hear you, to open yourself – body and soul – they have come to watch you. Look."

She had dropped her head, her eyes seeing her naked body split open by his cock but her mind not really registering. She was dipping into the water, the white tendrils of arousal wrapping around her lower brain.

She looked up at his words and saw several people in the audience stripping off their clothes, a young couple kissing passionately as they worked each other's shirts off. She knew it was because of her, even as she knew it wasn't from her now, but the difference didn't matter. Her eyes rolled back into her head as his hands played the front of her body – her nipples, her slit, her clit.

The white flames had engulfed her entire core from slit to tip of her forehead – she was immersed in them, the sweetness of her climax just a hair breadth's away. She floated, submerged in the fiery honey, eyes closed, the sounds of her past-self's passion filling her ears, and then, without warning, the white exploded, passing through her bones, her skin, her eyes. Everything went black and then she was on that stage feeling the dildo pulsing inside her, her hands and feet bound out to the side, her breasts pulled down by their nipples from the silver chain and then she was back.

She gulped for air trying to figure out what had happened. Her body was still on fire, Monty was still inside her, his fingers pulling her nipples, her arms trapped behind his, her legs split open. Her vision was blurry, as if she'd been crying, but she could still see the audience, staring at her, continuing to undress.

"Stop...stop...I've got to stop...." She forced the words out. She was approaching a climax and didn't want to go over the edge – whatever had happened just then wasn't an orgasm and she didn't want to lose the feeling.

She wriggled her hands free as he stopped playing with her, settling her back onto him. He stayed inside her but didn't move, lightly rubbing her arms, his lips kissing the back of her neck at her hairline.

He took the remote and changed the point of view back to her on stage. She didn't protest – watching her past-self approaching an orgasm wasn't enough to push her over the edge, but it fed the lower flames – the orange/yellow thicker fires burning in her cunt and lower spine.

The white flame had gone, but throughout her body she felt stars – small electric buzzings of little white stars of arousal. Everywhere. They burned her in a way that felt good. Like small suns were warming her everywhere.

She closed her eyes and focused on the white tingles all along her skin warming her from the outside in, while his tiny movements inside her fanned the orange flames, warming her from the inside out. She put her hands on his thighs, rubbing up to the sides of his buns feeling his hairless skin and relaxing into the thing that just happened.

After what seemed like a few minutes she untangled her legs bringing them together in front of her. She pushed with her hands against the seat slowly rocking onto her feet. She could feel his cock slowly sliding from her, pulling her juices with it. When she was completely free of him she stood slowly making sure not to cramp her muscles and then turned to face him. She smiled, spread her legs and re-mounted his cock, embracing his neck, planting kisses on his face and lips.

"That was so fantastic," she whispered into his ear. "I never thought I'd enjoy doing it that way."

The sounds of the sequence continued behind her – her past-self orgasming, the sighs of the audience, buzzing of the dildo. She reached over to the control and handed it to him, her suggestion to turn it off obvious.

Now, with the room finally quiet, she could truly feel the echoes of the experience rippling through her. His cock pulsed against her insides, its beat out of step with her heart. She laid her head on his shoulder and just relaxed, feeling her skin against his, her nipples lightly touching his chest.

The pulsing of his cock, the sparkling of the white fire just under her skin and the memory of the imagery from the sequence all flowed through her like the gentle waves of a sea under a boat's hull. She fell asleep.