The Bookshelf Vol. 01: James Bondage

Still shaky -- whether from the giddiness of still being alive after what was easily the most frightening experience of my life, or from the body-ripping orgasms I had just given my (thank God) apparently-fully-healed body, I couldn't tell -- I stood up, and took Casino Royale off of The Bookshelf and set it gently on my coffee table. Noticing my cocktail dress and champagne flute on the floor, I picked them up and put them down next to the book.

As I turned toward the bathroom -- I needed a shower; I'd already soaked my thighs down to knees -- I paused, and looked back toward the book. The memories made my knees wobble, and the voice in the back of my head whispered something I really didn't want it to.

Wouldn't it be even better if you did it just one time deliberately?

I shook my head. I wasn't going to reward those arrogant pricks with freely-given sex after what they did. No matter how much I secretly enjoyed myself.

But they're just characters. They won't remember anything. It's not their fault.

And besides, can you imagine what they could do to you if you weren't tied down?

No. No, no. no. I needed a shower, and I needed a meal, and I needed a nap, in that order. Or so I thought. The truth was, I fell asleep in the shower. My body might not have been injured by the story per se, but I was utterly exhausted beyond all sanity. I barely dragged myself to bed -- skipping everything including the towel -- and passed out, still covered in shower water.

When I woke up, I was freezing cold and starving. Fortunately, I had some leftover pasta sauce in the fridge. As I sat there, wrapped in my comforter, watching the water slowly heat up and begin to boil, I thought about what had happened. I would have to be careful -- much more careful -- next time. That situation could have been a lot worse; in a way, I had been pretty lucky. If that had been something like Braveheart, filled with disgusting dirty medieval peasants...well, probably a peasant wouldn't have assumed that smiling at him made me his personal fuck-toy. But the point remained -- I needed to be sure I didn't wander into a story without being very familiar with the genre.

I started to daydream. I had an entire shelf full of shitty teenage romance novels...but then, no one in those books ever fucked. I need harlequin romances, and I didn't actually own any of those.

Some part of the back of my head was poking the rest of my thoughts, wondering why it was that I was so intensely focused on the sexual aspect of what The Bookshelf could do for me...or to me. But the rest of my mind was entranced. Having eaten my fill and gotten warm enough, I stepped away from the table, leaving the comforter on the floor around my chair, and walked up to The Bookshelf. Nothing seemed quite real to me...I had been fucked for so long that having a luscious cock inside me was just...normal. Without it, there was something missing.

I realized that the book was sitting back on The Bookshelf, and I didn't know how it got there. The impossibly-colored light was already starting to tint my vision.

Wait! You're still...

I stepped into the casino, careful this time to stay on my feet and in total control of myself.

...naked.

―

Dozens of eyes turned toward me, and they raked me up and down. Silence descended almost instantly, and it was literally nothing but sudden, heart-exploding levels of fear that kept my chin up and by composure intact. I deliberately threw my shoulders back, sticking my breasts out as far as they would go, and I carefully surveyed my buffet of insanely good lovers. Not the same cast of characters as last time, but I expected that. It was, according to the rules, a different fiction every time.

Finally, I pointed at one particular gentleman. "You."

The man I pointed at wasn't the best looking of the bunch, but he had that panther-grace that had captivated my attention the first time around. He stepped up to me with a rakish grin and offered me a champagne flute. "I am, in every available sense, at your command, milady."

"Just what I wanted you to say," I smiled through an adrenaline rush that threatened to claim my consciousness on the spot. "Because you have exactly six hours to prove to me that you are the single best lover in this entire building." I took the champagne, sipped it modestly, and smiled.

I prayed to God this wasn't going to turn out badly. As he took my arm and led me gallantly toward the hotel area, deliberately giving every other man we walked past a chance to run his eyes up and down my exposed curves, I thought, Sure...this is totally a badass Bond-girl kind of move. Right?

―

He didn't even let the door close before he wrapped his arm around my waist, pressed me up against the wall of the hotel room, and pushed his hard...zipper...up against my naked ass. His lips brushed the back of my neck, leaving behind such intense heat it was like a sunburn radiating down my shoulders.

"Milady, before I give you every inch of...proof...at my disposal, will you grace me with your name?"

My mind raced. I hadn't thought this one out. It had better be good -- really good. "My name," I whispered, turning around slowly and putting one wrist on either one of his shoulders, staring him right in the eyes to buy myself enough time to think of a great name, "Is Felicia. Felicia Cox."

He smiled that predatory smile, and I felt my body open up under his gaze like he was already pushing his way inside me. I didn't know, until that very moment, that I was capable of purring. Something inside of me was transforming. I had always been the kind of girl that loved sex, but here in the fictional world, I could feel something else blossoming inside of me. Not just a love of a good bang, but a kind of...freedom...that I had never felt before.

Standing there, naked and smiling up into the eyes of a complete stranger that didn't actually exist, I felt for the first time like I could genuinely just let go and do absolutely anything to...or with...this man. There was no disease, no pregnancy, no attachments -- literally, the second I left this space, he would stop existing, which means I didn't need to worry about what he thought about me the next day.

And because there's basically no way in hell that anyone would ever find out about The Bookshelf, there was no need for me to worry about what anyone else would think about me the next day, either.

Someday, I knew, I was going to have to worry about falling in love and having a normal life. But I didn't have to worry about for a few years yet...and with The Bookshelf at my disposal, I could -- I would -- make sure that, by the time I did find a man, I would make damn sure he never even thought about any other woman.

Yep. I was here not just to get laid, but to learn. My first visit had taught me that I could enjoy...that I actually did enjoy...getting fucked by so many men I lost track -- that I enjoyed getting fucked literally into unconsciousness. The thought made me lick my lips, and the hard, masculine eyes staring into mine glanced at my lips with a supremely hungry gleam. If my body had opened a moment ago, those eyes -- that glance made me absolutely drip.

I wanted to learn this one. More than just his cock (though that was pretty high on my agenda) -- I wanted to learn every part of him.

Turning my hands around, I threaded them through his hair and pulled his mouth down to mine. He didn't even hesitate -- his tongue invaded my mouth, demanding me. His hands moved easily and confidently, one cupping my left breast and the other sliding down the middle of my back, pressing hard and forcing my hips forward. That assertive bulge on the other side of his zipper pushed hard into my belly.

My entire body shook violently as his grasping hand pinched my nipple, and the electric heat shot down my core and seemed to blast right out my pussy, carrying wetness with it. I whimpered into his mouth as his finger brushed roughly against the pucker of my ass, half-threat, half-promise. I ran my hands across his chest, and trailed my fingers down the front of his shirt, figuring a man like this wasn't the kind to wait around while I fumbled with his buttons.

I was right -- more right than I had suspected. The moment I hinted at getting into his belt, his hand left my breast and landed across my throat. He stepped away, and I was suddenly bereft of his body...the only thing I felt was his powerful grip closing on my airway. He locked eyes with me, and I could see his triumph, gloating as he watched the panic rise in my eyes. What did I do wrong this time?

―

Well, at least it won't take long this way, I thought as my vision started to swim just moments later. But as the thought crossed my mind, his other hand came up and grabbed my as-yet-unmolested nipple, twisting it just violently enough that the pleasure outweighed the pain and made my knees buckle.

And when they did, he dropped me. As I gasped the air back into my lungs, he threaded one hand into my hair and grabbed a big fistful, yanking my head back so I was once again locked into his gaze. "Felicia," he whispered. "Pleased to meet you. Now take my pants down and introduce yourself properly."

"What...mmmm...what is your name?" I asked as I focused on the task of getting his pants down.

"Damien," he whispered urgently down at me as his enormous cock bounced up out of his descending pants, "Damien Deep."

I put my hands on his hips, determined to keep me from just ramming his dick into my mouth -- which he was clearly about to do -- and looked up at him, making contact with those dark, dangerous eyes that I was already starting to crave. I moved my face forward gently, delicately, and I just barely kissed the bottom of his head without looking away. "Damien Deep," I whispered, and I could hear the awe and wonder in my own voice.

I realize that if I wasn't so goddamn horny I might have laughed -- but under the circumstances it really was that sexy of a name. It made a promise I really wanted him to keep -- and the weight and size of him told me he could live up to that promise completely. I realized that I had a lot of work ahead of me if I was going to keep up with the (literally) impossibly perfect fuck-toy of masculine dominance in front of me.

And then I realized how I was going to live up to Damien Deep: I was going to give myself over to him -- to let him run the show and find out what genuine, willing, no-holds-barred two-player super-spy sex was like without any of my own prejudices or worries interfering. I was going to submit completely, and just enjoy the ride. I swear to God, he could see that thought move through my head -- as I thought it, his eyes abruptly transformed from "I'm going to enjoy this," to "I'm going fuck the ever-living shit out of you." I wanted that. I wanted it bad.

"Damien Deep," I whispered again, still staring into his hungry, insanely cum-worthy eyes. "Please...please...own me." My pussy surged so hard as I whispered those words, I might have actually had a tiny orgasm.

By the time the tremble from that involuntary spasm reached my jaw, I already had his cock forced deeper into my throat than any man had ever been. I'd sucked a few penises before, but no man had ever simply fucked my mouth hard enough to get past all of the defenses and slam home deep enough that I could feel my neck stretched out from his girth.

I tried to cry out...but I couldn't. I tried to suck in air...but I couldn't. All I could do, for the next insanely long time, was helplessly keep staring into those eyes as I felt Damien Deep's incredibly delicious penis slide out of me just far enough that I still couldn't breathe...and then slam, firmly and decisively but not quite violently, back into my throat. With every thrust, Damien let out a tiny, profoundly sexual noise somewhere between a grunt of pleasure and a sigh of relief. Quite without my conscious thought, I found that my hands -- long since fallen from his hips -- were in between my legs, caressing my lips and clit like masturbating was the most important thing in the world.

My vision started to swim again. Spots appeared, and my lungs burned, but I was absolutely sure I couldn't actually get hurt -- and I was absolutely sure that Damien Deep wasn't allowed, by the conventions of the genre, to actually hurt me. So twice-secure, I just...gave myself up. If he wanted to throat-fuck me unconscious...I'd let him.

That thought -- along with my fingers on my clit and the cock profoundly satisfying itself in me in an utterly profane and unbearably possessive manner -- made me come so hard that I would have fallen over if his hand wasn't still clenched in my hair, holding me onto his cock with unwavering power.

And he proved me right. Just as my vision started to tunnel, Mister Deep pulled out of me, and knelt beside me, still holding me up. I tried to suck in air and cough at the same time, and I thought the result would be un-sexy...but I was still locked onto his eyes, and I could see myself reflected in them. My eyes were wet, because having his cock that deep into my mouth had made me tear up, and the expression on my face was so incredibly...owned...that my body didn't even hesitate for a moment after that incredible orgasm. Oh, no, it said. You're not anywhere near done, and that little bit of juice was just an appetizer. Now ask your master what he wants, and give it to him.

"Damien..." I whispered hoarsely.

"Miss Cox," he whispered back. "I need to come. And I need it now."

I nodded, and leaned over to kiss him passionately. My hand reached out and delicately traced the underside of his hardness, and he moaned into my mouth, hand reaching up for my breasts. But it was my turn. I brushed his hands away and pushed him over, right there on the floor. As he landed on his back, I crawled over him, and I put my hungry cunt right over his face, staring down at that twitching, desperate cock with genuine affection. "Only," I whispered back, "if you can make me come at the same time."

I wrapped one hand around his balls and the other around the base of his cock, and I lowered my mouth over his head and sucked with everything I had. I felt his fingers reach deep into my body and expertly stroke every nerve inside of me, and his tongue bathe my aching clit with flick after intent, earnest flick, driving waves of thunderous heat up and down every part of my body.

I don't know how long it took, but it didn't take long -- he started to thrust upward into my mouth, and frankly, I started to thrust down into his, grinding my clit on his chin and forcing his tongue up into my desperate cunt. He let loose a scream like he was being tortured, and I pressed hard, forcing his cock back into its (rightful?) place as deep in my throat as it could go. If he was going to come into my throat, I wanted that hot seed straight into my belly.

And I felt it. His cock surged, and I could feel every jet of his ejaculation pass between my lips, along my tongue, past my mouth, into my throat, and then finally out of his dick and into my esophagus where I swear I could feel it splatter and then burn, hot like coffee, before it started to slide into my stomach.

Needless to say, I came again -- so long and so hard that I tried...I really tried to scream his name at the top of my lungs. But my hunger for his come was stronger than my need to scream, so I compensated for it by literally and desperately rubbing my pussy all over Damien Deep's face, enjoying the sensation of his lips and nose and chin working their way across my lower lips and the slit in between.

When I was satisfied that the last tiny bit of seed had spilled from that amazing cock, I closed my lips and sucked as hard as I could, slowly -- agonizingly -- pulling myself off of it, drawing every tiny bit of post-come out of his body and one hell of a moan of sheer pleasure out of his lips.

When I rolled off of him and fell, limp and spent, to the floor, he looked over at me with an awed expression, and smiled a fuck-drunk smile. "You...you certainly live up to your name."

I nodded softly, amazed at my own incredible sluttiness.

Then his hand landed between my legs, and I amazed myself again by pushing my slit up against it and moaning like a porn star.

Damien Deep smiled wickedly and said "And I am going to live up to mine."

What? I thought, almost panicked. More?

Oh, there was more. Damien Deep was not nearly done with me yet.

―

He rose smoothly to his feet, and watching him, I couldn't help but once again think of a panther slinking through the jungle, shoulders rippling, eyes glowing. He stood over me, flaccid only in the least important way -- because his incredible eyes were still rock-hard, and his hands...

"OooohhhhhmmmMMMmm..." I trailed off as he leaned over and ran his hands from my cheeks to my breasts to my hips, and then, "Eeep!" -- he lifted me easily off of the floor and, "Oof!"-- he plopped me down over his shoulder.

I was so ready for him to carry me over to that bed...but I watched as it started to get further away. "Da...Damien?" I could hear the quaver in my own voice.

His own voice was husky -- controlled, but obviously intensely aroused -- when he replied. "You asked me to prove that I'm the best lover in the building. Then you asked -- no, you begged me to own you." He paused, and I heard the room door open. The light from the hallway was glaring, and my eyes involuntarily squeezed shut. "I'm going to do what any proper owner would do with a pet as attractive as you."

The next few moments of my life were filled with small murmurs that varied from amazement to disapproval to fairly obvious interest, but all I could see were feet and the floor of the casino hallway. I could feel dozens of gazes on my naked ass and slick pussy, but it didn't really matter. I'd already been standing naked in front of them...and honestly, getting fucked by a huge crowd of men earlier today had kind of utterly demolished any sense of modesty I might have had. Let them stare -- right now, I was the happy, well-fucked pet of one Damien Deep, and none of them would have anything to say about it.

Another pause. Another door opened. A voice I didn't recognize: "Welcome to the VIP room, Mister Deep and...plus one."

Suddenly, I was upright again, and the change in blood flow made me dizzy. I swayed slightly, and took in the sight of more gambling tables, several couches, a few dozen staff members, and a massive wall of windows looking down over the normal casino floor.

Damien spoke to the attendant. "Is there anyone here right now?"

"No, sir," the attendant replied. "All of the regulars are in the school, attending the equestrian events."

"How long do they last?"

"A couple of hours yet, sir."

"Excellent. Please inform anyone wishing to make use of the room that I'll compensate them for their trouble later, but I'd like this place to myself. All to myself."

The attendant looked at my naked, swaying body, and I could see understanding register. "Right away, sir."

My dizzy spell faded, and I finally thought to say something. I struggled with the words, and while my brain was working at it, my mouth just went ahead and opened anyway. "Mister Deep..."