The Invisible Hand Pt. 03

I sigh. A hand on my stomach! What the… I scream as he pulls me to his naked body and bites my shoulder.

"Your demon is here and you give him your back all the time? This is not–" he hisses in my ear, but I interrupt him to turn around and kiss him with the need of a junkie in withdrawal.

"That's better, pet!" he chuckles with a smug smile, keeping my head at bay with one hand, "You seem antsy, everything alright?"

I want to bite his head off, but I force myself to calm down and reply with the greatest of the understatements:

"I've been longing for you, demon mine."

His eyes twinkle at the sight of my repressed rage: he feeds off of it. So he lets me go and I dive again to kiss my cruel lover, straddling him, while he caresses the length of my back.

"I've missed you too, my love," he pants as soon as I let him breathe and focus on kissing the rest of his body. I especially enjoy his neck, because I can fill my lungs with his smell.

I'm in a trance: all of me is in my mouth, solely focused on the feeling of his skin on my lips. I want it all, his earlobes, his chest, his muscular stomach, his hips and his cock. Oh, how I've missed it! No, not only missed, I literally dreamed about it, shed tears over it and now it's here, in front of me, all for me… I'm kissing his member like a long-lost friend, when I hear my chastity belt unlocking with a clack. With a gasp I raise my head and look at him in the eye: he's waiting for me to make a mistake, to stimulate in any way my desperate pussy, now dripping for the marvel of his appearance, but I know better: if I please myself before pleasing him I will be punished harshly, for example by locking my sex up again.

"You are so cruel," I whisper, crawling back to face him, "so evil," I continue, with my lips brushing against his ear and my hand holding his cock, pulling and squeezing, making him pant in pleasure.

"Yeah, poor pet, you're so unlucky!"

My tongue runs on the rim of his ear.

"Cursed to love such a wicked being…" I continue sensually, nibbling at his earlobe, jacking him harder to reward his deviousness.

"Can I please suck your dick, my love? I really need to…" I plead.

He answers by grabbing my hair and pushing my head back towards his crotch. This is true power: even though my libido is a ferocious, hungry animal, angrily thrashing about in me, he remains the true owner of my body. So I rest my head on his lower torso, open my mouth to host just the tip of his member and slowly lick around the little hole that sometimes feeds me with liquid sex, breathing warm air along his shaft, which my hand works with a lack of gentleness that contrasts my mouth's behavior. My other hand fondles his balls: the temptation to put it between my clenched thighs is dangerously high.

He allows me to play this way for a couple of minutes, but then he slowly pushes me closer and closer to his sack. I try hard to take it all in and decide to change position, on my knees and elbows, with my body now almost parallel to his and my feet next to his left arm. This way its easier so gulp his warm rod. That's probably why he ever so gently caresses my outer labia with his fingers. A scream of frustration and need escapes my mouth, muffled by his thick member, but I try to continue my work, slobbering all over its length and massaging his glans with my tongue whenever, in my bobbing movement, I extract most of his dick from my mouth.

He gives me no quarter: he keeps tickling my sensitive parts, bathing his fingertips in my juices. I'm whining now, wanting nothing but to turn around and have my pussy turned tiger devour his dick, but with his fingers in my hair he is the master of my head and keeps fucking it mercilessly.

"Please!" I scream in one of the few moments in which my mouth is free to breathe some fresh air.

All I receive is a slap on my sex. I shriek for the shock, the pain, but also for the pleasure: anything is better than the teasing! Not for him though. What if I make him cum before he can fuck me? He could still eat my pussy and lord knows if he's good at it, but I want his cock in me, I really, obsessively, do.

My head bobs to and fro nonetheless. I've reached the point in which I pretend that my body is reversed, that my mouth is actually my pussy, my arms my legs and vice-versa.

I yelp as my hair is pulled backwards and my body tumbles aside. He's as much of a fury now as I am. He grabs my wrists and holds them on the mattress as I open my legs as much as I can. It finally happens, the dream comes true: he enters his rightful dominion. Even though I'm pinned down by his overwhelming strength, I feel lifted as he kisses me with greed and need and I reciprocate with just as much heat. Our mouths cannot part, we breathe each other's breath. More, I want more: my legs trap him in me, I want him there forever.

I cum hard. The only thing that prevents me to move all my body in spasms of pleasure is the weight of his own. He goes on and on and finally leaves a piece of himself in me, collapsing on my chest.

"Stay here, demon mine, stay inside of me," I whisper with watery eyes that blur everything, accentuating the illusion that I'm in paradise, "I love you with all my heart."

"I love you too, Nadia, more than anything," he replies while I caress his smooth bald head, with an uncharacteristic hyperbole: he must have really missed me too, during these two weeks in Europe.

We remain in adoration of each other like that for several minutes. His sex lies flaccid inside of mine and it's the most wonderful sensation, but I've got duties and so I eventually roll him on the side and slide to face his cock glistening with jizz and my juices. I greet it with a kiss and then I proceed to put it all in my mouth, playing with it with my tongue. This is not just cleaning, this is worshiping, and lasts an appropriate amount of time, no less than ten minutes. In the meantime he caresses my long jet black hair, splayed all over the mattress.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he says, interrupting my work "you should get ready: we are going to a double date with Sadie at lunch," he announces.

"Oh, that's great! Maybe this will cheer her up," I comment and then realize that she hasn't told me anything about it and so I add:

"She knows, right?"

"No, maybe it's high time we tell her!" he replies with a sly smile.

Damn it! I hastily crawl out of the bed to fetch my phone and call my friend:

"Hi, doll, you busy?"

All I hear is a confused mumble: she's still sleeping.

"Wake up, at lunch we are going to meet your next date!"

"WHAT THE FUCK?" she yells in my ear, forcing me to put some distance between it and the mobile.

I glare at him, but my demon, now on his feet too, shrugs:

"This way she didn't have time to make a big thing out of it."

I sigh and then reply to my bestie:

"Ok, you just wake up and we'll come soon to help you prepare."

Then I drop on my knees and kneel in front of him, kissing his hand:

"How can I please your eyes today, my love?"

He strokes his chin pensively:

"I want something very elegant: today Sadie should be the cheapest slut!"

Elegant, huh? I browse in my wardrobe and finally settle for a long dress with a V-neck and trumpet-like sleeves, made of three superimposed layers of black and purple lace decorated with a Victorian floral pattern. A fourth inner layer of black satin that only covers my torso prevents anyone from seeing through the others. Still, a lot of my naked body is visible, as he likes it.

"Very beautiful," he indeed approves behind me.

I complete the attire with a pair of simple black high heels and while I do my make-up (today I feel like using black lipstick), he puts on a beautiful black brocade jacket on a dark Bordeaux shirt, finishing the look with a black tie and coordinated pants. He looks very handsome and I compliment him with a kiss. Like last time, he doesn't put the chastity belt on me, but I'm not entirely happy about it: it feels weird not being locked up and, even though my accrued libido is momentarily sated, I'm not sure about the future and I might succumb to the temptation of touching myself without his permission.

When we reach Sadie's house, we find her already at the door in her bunny pajama.

"Come on! It's not like we have time to spare!" she incites us, already in full panic mode.

So we come in without wasting time in formalities and head to the first floor and her room. I just notice for a moment her father's stern gaze from the living room: he does not approve of his daughter's life choices, which I embody in his mind; he would have preferred her to go on with her studies.

In the safety of her room, my demon decides to brief us about the date:

"Ok, about Paul: I don't want to spoil any surprise, but he's into objectification, so I suggest the sluttiest attire you can think of, which means that you should put it on elsewhere."

"Ok, slutty it is! Would you choose my decoy dress for me, boss?" Sadie asks. It's not just about convenience: she loves it when I dress her up like a doll, which is the reason why all my birthday and Christmas gifts to my bestie are dresses crafted by me.

I know very well how her wardrobe is organized, so it takes me only a couple of minutes to fetch a T-shirt of "The Birthday Massacre", an industrial band she loves, and a black miniskirt with the hem decorated by guipure tape and a print of a cemetery with a violet background, which looks like it's been taken from the cover of one of their albums.

"Nice!" she approves, showing me her choice, after a quick consultation with my demon. I recognize the dress she picked: it's in what she called the "Ero Lolita" sub-style when she explained to me her fascination with Lolita fashion, the first time I set foot in her house. It is a simple short-sleeved black satin dress, with a very short ruffled tiered miniskirt, and a deep, revealing V-neck, held together by a string. A couple of red bow ties are placed in correspondence of the breasts and the crotch.

"I'm going to wear it with these!" she adds, fetching a pair of red dolly platform shoes with a round toe and chunky high heel. Several matte black bow ties cover their strings. I approve and we put it all in a big empty shopping bag that I carried inside, while she dons a red bow tie headband.

As we climb down the stairs, we find her parents preparing lunch in the kitchen.

"Jesus, Sadie, why don't you dress like an adu–" her father complains, but Wendy stops him and hisses:

"Let her be, Darrell!"

Sadie just lowers her gaze ashamed and rushes to the door while we say goodbye. We make a brief stop at the shop for her to change and apply some makeup: my friend now sports enormous fake eyelashes, heavy black eyeliner, as well as burgundy nailpolish and glossy lipstick of the same color.

"You are the cutest thing!" I praise her, kissing her forehead, before getting in the car again.

"Very true! So, are you ready to meet your master, kiddo?" he asks with a grin, turning on the engine.

"Fuck yeah!" she replies.

This time he drives us in the direction of the city center and we end up in a fancy residential complex. Paul apparently lives in an attic of a 13-story building.

"Quite a change of pace with respect to Bryn's hovel!" I comment.

"I thought it was the coolest house," Sadie retorts, a little surly.

I don't have time to muse about her reaction, because my demon, worried about our three minutes delay, hastily rings the bell of the beautiful wooden front door. A few seconds after, we see Paul for the first time. He has short straw-colored hair and, behind frameless glasses, his eyes are deep blue and good-natured, even gentle. It's hard to picture him as a stern master, perhaps because in the case of my demon I could spot danger in his gaze the very first time it met mine. Or perhaps his expression is just the result of a nice vacation: Paul's tanned complexion seems to suggest that he has recently come back from the seaside. All in all, even though you can tell that he is in his forties, he looks a little younger than his age.

"Hi, Eric, pleased to meet you again!" he says, shaking my demon's hand.

"Hello Paul, me too!"

"And this must be Nadia," our host continues, taking my hand too, while I smile back at him.

"And here's our friend Sadie," my demon completes, turning aside to present her to Paul.

"Oh my, Eric, you told me you found a nice doll for me, but your words could never prepare me for such beauty!" he gasps, taking Sadie's hand, partially hidden by a dark red chiffon cuff glove.

She makes a sort of curtsy and smiles shyly.

"Please, come in!" he then encourages us.

His house looks as expensive inside as it seemed outside. The furniture is modern but it does not send the cold vibe I normally associate with it. He shows us the rooms sounding a little like a realtor and ends the tour with one concealed by a black door.

"As Eric knows, I'm a sex toy designer," he announces, opening it, "and here is where I will transform you in a perfect fuckdoll, if you'll submit to me."

The first thing I see when everybody enters and I can finally peek inside, is myself, everywhere. The walls and the ceiling are mirrors and even the black quartz floor tiles are so polished that the reflections on them are almost as sharp as the rest of the surfaces. Light is provided by small but powerful neon tubes at the edges of the space. Our impressed faces are not the only thing that seemingly covers all the walls: supported by a myriad of steel rods, an endless collection of sex toys surrounds us. At the center of the room there is a white round futon, but I can also see some sex furniture. In general, it's hard to understand what is where, because everything is reflected a thousand times everywhere, like in a mirror maze.

"Here I would train you to please a man in ways that most women couldn't," Paul continues, sounding a little like a blowhard, if you ask me. My demon thinks the same, as he communicates with an eloquent glance.

"Wow, Paul, I can't wait to try it!" Sadie replies, very excited.

Paul seems to be very proud of his creation, to the point that it is with some reluctance that he announces:

"Well, shall we have lunch?"

We all agree and proceed to the dining room, where we sit at a rectangular table already set with fancy designer dishes. Paul brings a wine bottle and then a big steel bowl.

"I like to cook," he explains, serving us a yellowish pasta, "this is spaghetti Carbonara! I have an Italian friend who taught me how to prepare it the traditional way, with just egg, bacon and pecorino romano!"

I don't know what the last ingredient is, but I nod and smile: the smell seems good, even though I'm not sure that I will be able to eat it all.

"Every strand you don't eat, it's going to be six hours of abstinence after I leave," my demon whispers smoothly in my ear with an evil grin.

I gulp: this is probably the strongest incentive he could choose! It's unusually patronizing of him and that bothers me a little.

"So, toys, huh?" says Sadie to revive the conversation while we are all busy twisting the spaghetti around our forks, "Anything we might know?"

"I founded Hello Pussy, have you ever heard of it?"

Sadie is thinking about it, when my demon interjects:

"Oh, yeah, Sadie, most of the toys I bought for Nadia have been made by Paul's company."

"And they are awesome!" I compliment Paul, whose ego is reveling in the conversation.

He then proceeds to tell us how he used to be a mechanical engineer and started his admittedly still small company with the idea of taking advantage of the recent progress in material science to revolutionize the industry, introducing the usage of materials originally conceived for completely different purposes. My demon is more fascinated by the topic than me and the conversation soon veers in his experiments with metals and chastity belts. Sadie is getting bored too and I think Paul notices:

"But enough about me! I hear that you two dabble in design too," he says, addressing me and my bestie.

She then proceeds to talk about our shop and how we met. From then on, as soon as Paul puts aside his business, he reveals a more amiable, balanced, perhaps more sensitive spirit and I begin to like talking to him more. For example, he seems genuinely interested in my relationship with my lover and is curious about the way he controls me:

"Her collar basically contains the components of a water-proof smartphone: lithium batteries, internet connection, GPS, accelerometers and, in the mouths of the snakes at the front, I hid a microphone and a camera, albeit with a fisheye lens to capture all the surroundings… The rest is just my home server, an app I wrote for my phone and my software."

I shake my head.

"No, Paul, he's wrong. That's not how he controls me or knows everything about me. Technology is just an intermediary: the most important component, one that nobody can replicate, is him," I intervene.

My demon looks at me with an uncharacteristically shy smile, while Paul says:

"Gosh, you two are very lucky for having found each other!"

At that I can't help but look at my pasta: whereas everyone has finished their meal, there are still many strands left in my bowl! I can't swallow all of them, I think gloomily: a long abstinence awaits me again.

"Are you alright, my love?" my demon asks, leaning towards me.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm just not hungry anymore," I reply.

"Wait, you are not seriously thinking that I'm going to deny you orgasms on the basis of the spaghetti count, right?" he assures me.

"You aren't?" I whisper.

He seems to regret deeply his words at the beginning of the lunch.

"Of course not! You know I don't do bargains, those are for children! I was teasing, thinking that you were playing along!"

I'm relieved and a little angry at myself: sure, he shouldn't have joked about food with me, but he had indeed promised me a long time ago that if I were to eat for him, it would always be for my desire of pleasing him, not for fear of punishment.

"I'm sorry," he adds.

My answer is taking another forkful and eat it in front of him, trying (and probably failing) to look sexy as I do so. He smiles again.

After that, we help Paul with the dishes, while he tells us about his two failed marriages and apologizes for being a little rusty with romantic dates, since the last one ended in divorce just a few months ago. I have the feeling that this means he's not looking for anything serious with Sadie, which, according to her, should be a problem, but she never reacted to that piece of information. Is it possible that she missed its implications? Not likely, but she seems to like him nonetheless. This reinforces my impression that she lied about Bryn. I'm both worried and a little wounded that she has not confided in me yet.

"Well, how about we have some fun?" Paul proposes, after he closes the dishwasher.

My heartbeat increases. What is this seemingly good-natured man going to do with me? As if he heard my thoughts, he adds:

"I was thinking a board game, you know, to break the ice."

I'm surprised to hear this and I should be reassured, but somehow I end up disappointed.

"What board game did you have in mind?" Sadie asks, a little surprised too.

"How about a classic Operation? It always makes me laugh," he answers.

I send a perplexed gaze to my demon but he just shrugs with a grin. He must suspect something! My anxiety and excitement accompany us to Paul's lab. From a hidden cabinet he fetches a cardboard box, the one of the game if I'm not mistaken. So, where's the catch?

"Nadia, please, why don't you show us your beautiful body?" he asks.

I look at my demon and he answers pulling the zip of the dress all the way down, making it fall. I don't even have time to react and decide whether I should be embarrassed. Sadie, on the other hand, is shamelessly enjoying the view and Paul seems to share her opinion: