I twisted the knobs, increasing the speed beyond what she’d felt before, and she moaned a long, loud, “Oh!” Her thighs shook around the machine. Her spine arched, and a silent scream opened her mouth and tipped her head back.
I cranked the machine up higher.
“Oh, god!” she shouted. The shackles around her ankles kept her from moving too much, and my weight at her back held her the rest of the way.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she babbled as another orgasm shook her.
“That’s two. This time, I think you really should go for three,” I whispered against her ear. Her whole body trembled, like she was being electrocuted. That full body shivering only intensified as I turned the dials to the highest intensity. The dildo in her cunt would be whirling now, pressing and rolling over every inch of her dripping inner flesh. The vibrating rubber pad that pressed against her clit flapped with a rude, wet sound that I knew came from her juices as they coated the machine. I reached down and spread her labia, exposing her clitoris completely for the machine’s pounding vibration.
“Oh! Oh!” She screamed, and the sound twisted through various vowels and pitches as she writhed, trying to take more and escape, at the same time. The chains of the cuffs rattled as her feet kicked, and she slumped over, slapping her fists on the platform, her body still shuddering as she shouted, “Red! Red!”
I immediately turned the Sybian off and hurried to unfasten the cuffs from her ankles. She sat up, pushing her sweaty, disarrayed hair back from her face. “Fuck…oh, fuck. I can see why you’re into that.” She laughed, breathless. “Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”
“Not just this kind of thing,” I said with a shrug. “But Neil really gets off on the whole orgasm torture thing. Trust me, two or three? Is nothing.”
She eased up, the dildo sliding from her body, glistening with her juices. “What’s the record? Like, ten?”
I laughed sharply at that. “No. No, I think the record for denial was like, twenty-five denied, twenty-five forced. I couldn’t feel anything down there for forty-eight hours after that, I swear. And don’t even get me started on the ruined orgasms.”
She shook her head in bewilderment. “I feel like I’ve just been introduced to a whole new world.”
“Well, I guess fair’s fair, since you did that for me the last time.” And this time. I’d worried a little bit that my attraction to Gena had just been a byproduct of the already sexually charged atmosphere during our partner swap night, but I wanted her now even more than I had that night.
And she wanted me, too. She made that absolutely clear when I helped her down, and she used the opportunity to kiss me, holding my face in her hands, our bodies brushing together while her tongue made feather-soft ventures between my lips.
“Let me taste you,” she whispered into my mouth.
I pressed my thighs together, relying on unreliably shaky legs to keep me standing.
“I want to make you come,” she went on, one hand slipping down to part my labia, driving the point home. She looked over my shoulder at the armless leather chaise and jerked her chin in that direction. “Let me?”
She backed me toward the chair with kisses, a hand still cupping my mound, teasing me as we moved. I pushed the sex machine out of the way and dropped to the shiny leather.
“There are cuffs on the legs,” I told her. “If you’re planning to go down on me, you might want to use them.”
“Are you a thrasher?” she asked with a spark of amusement in her eyes.
She might find it funny now, but she wouldn’t when I seriously injured her. “If you don’t want a broken neck, is all I’m saying.”
“Mmm, it looks like there are restraints up here, too…” she mused, reaching for the shackles threaded through the steel loop at the top of the chaise’s sloped back.
The thought of being completely bound, helpless and exposed to Gena while she lapped at my clit with her bubblegum pink tongue made me shiver. “You can use them, if you want,” I suggested hopefully.
She lay one finger along her cheek as she considered. “Okay. But one thing, first.”
I held my breath as she leaned down and released the front-clasp closure of my bra. My breasts strained for her touch as she pushed the cups aside, but she somehow deftly avoided touching my nipples, which stood hard and tall from my flesh. She slipped one strap down my shoulder, and I helped with the other, shedding my bra so fast it might as well have been on fire. I would take off everything just to get her to touch me.
My hands moved to the garter belt at my hips, but she shook her head. “No. Leave it on. This is one of my top ten fantasies, going down on a girl wearing a garter-belt and stockings and nothing else.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.” Of course I hadn’t known that. Why did I feel the need to explain that?
Because I felt need. Electric, squirming need that tickled my clit and raced over my wanting skin.
“You want me to tie you up?” she asked, and when I nodded, she warned me, “Just so you know, I’ve never really done this in a serious way before. I mean, I’ve tied up people with scarves and stuff.”
“This i
s a lot safer, actually,” I told her. “You just have to promise not to leave me here.”