Writhing in EcstasybyClassica©
Author's Note: This story starts slowly and lifts off into an intense sexual fantasy. Enjoy, and I'd love to get your feedback.
The lights on stage are dimmed prior to their arrival, on cue, and a spotlight illuminates a plush Victorian-era chaise. The curves of the sofa are romantic, yet striking, and a set of beautiful pillows made of imported fabrics rest on its shoulder.
The desirable pair stroll hand-in-hand into the theater, wearing relaxed smiles for different reasons, as she is wholly unaware of the featured acts for tonight's performance. Oh, what hidden talents she will reveal!
His gloved hand releases Solara, brushing his fingers against the soft fur of her coat. Tonight is going to be a night to remember, he smiles thoughtfully, one that will open her mind to new possibilities.
There are already several guests in attendance. Backstage, dozens of curious, round eyes gaze at them from the darkness, gripping the thinly veiled curtains with youth, lust and desire.
Though the time will be fleeting, it will be filled with the sweetness of her attention.
She finds their seats, just a few rows from the stage. As she unbuttons her coat to reveal her sun-kissed shoulders, her fine collarbone glistens with her new yellow diamond necklace perched upon it, perfectly complementing the teardrop gems that shine from her delicate ears. She wears a size 2 or 4 dress, depending on the day, with marvelous curves above and below her trim waistline.
As she takes a seat, she is careful to adjust the ends of her sparkling gown beyond her rear and across her ample thighs with modesty. She allows the slit of the dress to creep back up over her right thigh as she crosses her legs, revealing both a flash of a lacy garter that holds up her pantyhose, as well as the sheen of her new luxe heels.
Her patiently waiting beauty taking him under, he kisses her forehead in response, adding to the furious blush of her cheeks. She is the modern pin-up girl of his dreams.
He had described this as a special dinner show that is only open for a few select nights each season. Wasn't he lucky to obtain tickets just one week ago? She didn't question his interest in attending, nor how he had discovered this performance.
He was careful to hide the wax-stamped hand-written invitation he had received to escort his lovely partner to this very room. Enveloped with darkness, he could still manage to trace the outlines of the well-worn, established stage with his eyes, sensing the residual warmth from its prior performances and the silhouettes of onlookers peeking just beyond the curtains.
"Get closer, take a picture!" They overhear this urgency, as a photographer and a scantily dressed female performer stop dead in their tracks from the row in front of them. The photographer is fully dressed; the performer wears nothing more than a pink lace bustier, heels, and what is effectively the bottom half of a frilly french maid's uniform... She smiles generously at Solara.
"Come with me... Join us. Please be our special guest tonight."
Solara hesitates, but I continue to smile, encouraging her to explore this opportunity. She leaves her seat for the warmth of the spotlight, and I do not mind.
The audience applauds with anticipation. They are eager to see my Solara perform.
I am surprised by the audience's excited response as I enter the stage. Surely, it's not for me.
We are instructed to line up across the stage. I decide to stand next to the woman who brought me on stage, as several other female performers stare intensely and saunter in my direction. They are dressed like showgirls or saloon girls, and I press the tips of my heels into the ground, feeling quite overdressed and a bit embarrassed by the spectacle that surrounds me.
A few minutes later, a rhythmic, lulling music beings to play, and soon, the spotlight shifts to the edges of the stage.
A tall male actor, masked from his forehead to his nose, wearing nothing more but a pair of tight black pants, takes to the stage in a bold, brisk manner. It is clear that he is in command. He makes his way through the rank and file showgirls, looking at each one up and down, selecting individuals, supposedly to help with the show.
As he reaches me, he inhales deeply and exhales with satisfaction... He smiles broadly to the audience and "presents" me with his arms stretched wide.
"Solara, Mistress of Darkness, Princess of our Desires!" his voice is booming amid the shadows of the theater. I stand, mesmerized by his proclamations.
In these bright stage lights, I cannot see past the stage, and I forget that there is an audience.
Then, he wastes no time. With a snap of his fingers to get my attention, he spins me around and straightens my posture with his hand.
With one swift motion, he lifts the dark curls of my hair and smoothly unzips my gown with the guidance of his hand. I gasp in surprise, nearly in despair, yet, I can hear an eruption of applause and whistles from an audience who are pleased with what they see.
I turn to flee the stage, but he quickly grabs my wrist, forcing me to face forward and outward in my compromised attire. The bustier under my gown hugs my tight bosom, and with a few tucks of his knowing fingers, the rest of my gown is lightly stripped away and falls to the floor.
My lips pout with anguish and a touch of fear, unaware of how to react.
"No, we need you here, So-lara."
The way he lingers on the sound of my name is unlike anything I've ever heard. Why? What is this? This is not the time for questions.
He grasps the flesh of my waist and hips from behind, spooning my body in a passionate hug. His bulging manhood presses against my rump; in this close proximity, I can smell the delicious musk of his desire, which emanates from him abundantly, filling me with desire. I seem to melt with the forcefulness of his touch, lowering my defenses as my body succumbs to his requests.
"Welcome, my Princess... my Love," his deep voice whispers into my ear, "Allow me to show you what you have been missing, So-lara."
I nod cautiously, with curiosity, as this seems the only acceptable response that I can provide at this time.
He runs his fingertips over textures and lines of my undergarments... Soon, like a magician, he pulls a silky soft scarf from the pocket of his pants. Pulling my hands together up over my head, he lassos them with this scarf, careful to pass the tight fabric across my palms and around my wrists for additional security.
I notice that he is able to clip part of a loose end of the scarf into a line from the ceiling of the stage, and he shoves the rest of the fabric into my mouth. Once again, lifting the dark curls of my hair in an upward swoop, a thin pink ribbon is tied around the bundle from the back of my head to hold it all in place.
Facing me, his arm still gripping my curls, his free hand gently adjusts my necklace, and he adeptly adds a studded collar, locking it onto place around my neck. The new collar jingles with the slightest movement, thanks to tiny bells that are clipped on.
He brushes his soft fingers lightly over my collarbone, my arms, my legs, my back, any exposed skin he can find. My restrained arms and compromised position leave me very exposed, shivering with nervousness and delight. He begins to work a little faster, as the showgirls enter to move the chaise sofa toward the back of the stage.
Lifting aside the folds of fabric across my pussy, he presses a bit of pussy juice into his fingers and calmly inserts a long toy into position. I am sent reeling with the penetration, closing my eyes with the mix of pain and pleasure, but all that can be heard from me is a squeal, followed by heavy exhales and a long, low moan.
He swats my rump. A sharp THWACK! resonates in the stillness.
"Now, we can't have that type of behavior on stage, can we? Control yourself, Solara."
Working with vigorous motions, he begins to thrust the toy in and out of my pussy, flicking his fingers across my clit. This act is clearly delighting him with both the mix of reactions on my face and the concerted effort I am making not to show or share the intensity of this experience.
All of a sudden, the toy begins to vibrate and rotate at its tip, deep within me...
He is at the controls!
As Solara adjusts to the toy, coming toward us are two of our showgirls carrying silver platters with two straps and a belt. They lay down their platters on each side of Solara and kneel to slide off her heels. One of them folds away her discarded dress.
Within minutes, the showgirls help to attach the strappy apparatus onto Solara like a second skin, tight across her well-groomed pussy to hold the vibrating pleasure toy in place. This also works effectively to separate her rear cheeks like the two halves of the most luscious melon.
She bounces on her tiptoes from the vibrations, causing her breasts to heave and bubble over her bustier. I decide to keep her writhing in her sexy bustier for modesty tonight, but she will be removing it during our future performances.
THWACK! I swat her rear another time, THWACK! and another, asserting my authority over her helplessness.
With ease, I remove two of the bells from Solara's collar and clip them tenderly onto her nipples. She breathes heavily and her taut breasts thrust outward and back with each clip. Her excitement from the sensations causes the little bells to jiggle and jingle in time with her body.
"Now! Perform for me, my sexy darling!"
I motion for the big climax of Solara's first act in the spotlight. The line holding up her arms begins to rise even higher, and her weight begins to lift off from the stage. She wiggles from the weightlessness and the pain on her rear, and the vibrations within her are now growing stronger with each moment.
"Fuck, yes! That is what you want... That's what I want to see."
A couple of minutes pass by, and as she grapples with the toy's attack over her body, her passionate moans and sexual desire are undeniable, with an animal rage. The waves of pleasure pass across her face, and her body convulses in a beautiful display, legs outstretched like a ballerina dancing to her solo choreography, and sexually, we now see her on the other end. *She is magnificent.*
Before she can "leap" away, I motion for her frame to be lowered with the line. The showgirls help to move the chaise into place on center stage. As her feet reach the ground, her arms still bound, I rest her slim body backward onto the chaise.
Carefully, I release the ribbon that ties the now-dampened scarf from her mouth, and press my finger over her lips.
Her eyes grow large and round, once again with a mix of fear and anticipation.
This masked Master removes the scarf from my mouth, yet I am speechless. Powerless from what I have just experienced, both physically and emotionally. While I have always found domination to be sexy, and I have expressed a fleeting interest in it to my partners, this very public act tonight was beyond my wildest imagination.
He removes his black pants, and steps up onto the chaise with bent knees, perching over me like a hawk. His manhood glistens with pre-cum, excited from the night's presentation. His eyes are dark and deep, and I can feel him staring at me, drinking me in at this very moment.
He holds his cock mere inches from my mouth, and presses his thumb against my chin to signal his entry. I obey on command, and moan as he fills my mouth with himself. Our eyes lock, and I am careful to keep his attention on my face as I perform.
I ensure that his cock is thoroughly sucked, his balls are fully licked. I use my tongue to wet his dick up and down with massive amounts of saliva, sucking and flicking away, and when his body seems fully charged, I pointedly press my tongue on the tension of skin between his balls and anus, causing him to electrify at an intense degree.
He presses his eyes shut (did I see tears?), and quickly, I lunge my neck to grab his dick with my mouth for the final tousle.
Loads of cum burst free from his cock, perhaps more than I expected, and I thirstily wrap my lips tighter around his cock like a born cocksucker, milking the tension from him to swallow every last drop. I eat his cum as if it is the most delicious substance that I have ever swallowed.
"Unnnnghhhh!" With his head bowed and his back fully arched, my Master struggles to hold himself from collapsing onto me.
Deeply satisfied with the results of my effort, I lick my lips as he reels from ecstasy.
I begin to caress his glistening skin, softly rolling my fingernails across his palms... up and down his arms... over his thighs and along the spine of his back... I notice how his body resonates with the attention and trembles with pleasure.
The house lights lift the darkness and the audience is now on its feet. Several showgirls enter the stage to take a bow and help tidy up.
Within moments, my Master regains both his strength and dominating composure, and he carefully unties my wrists from the scarf. I smile at him for this memorable ending.
He turns to face me and removes his mask.
"I knew you needed this, Solara," he grins knowingly, wrapping the scarf around my neck and under my hair, "Thank you for sharing this night with me... and for starring in this special show."
"These turned out to be incredible seats."
We take a bow together and share a salty, passionate kiss.
"We'll have to do this again."