The Audition(19)

“Lie down, Allie.” As before, his hands help me into place, and my back comes into contact with the cool leather. I shiver, and I can feel the goose bumps rise again on my skin. “Cold?” He sounds amused. “Maybe I can warm you up.”

“Maybe you can, Sir,” I say cheekily, and I’m rewarded with a little tug of the chain at my breasts. Sweet, sweet heat pools in my belly.

His hands close around my ankles, lifting them in the air. I feel him seat himself on the table from the way the cushion sinks in response to his weight. His lips bend towards my leg, kissing me. “Such a tasty little morsel,” he rasps. His accent, normally undetectable, is pronounced now.

There is kissing and caressing, of my thighs, my knees, and my ankles. I writhe on the table as he discovers erogenous zones in my body that I didn’t even know existed.

He is so slow. So painstaking in his detailed exploration of my body. By the time he is finished with my legs, I’m confident that there isn’t a single inch of skin he hasn’t kissed. And my pussy is weeping in need, screaming in anguish, begging for contact. For his cock, for his mouth, for his fingers, for anything.

He chuckles as I wriggle on the table, desperate in my need. “Sir, please,” I plead.

“Patience, myshka,” he counsels. It takes an inordinate amount of willpower not to smack him at that, but I manage.

He slides off the table. Now, perhaps? Has he relented? Will he touch me?

He has. “Part your legs for me, Allie,” he orders.

I obey with seriously impressive speed. Before he can blink, my legs are spread wide, and my sex is on display for him.

His fingers play with my lips, before moving surely over my clitoris. I can’t keep my moans contained. I groan and I exhale, and I whimper and I flail. “Do you like that?” he growls, his voice at my ear.

“Yes Sir,” I breathe. Oh, I like this very much indeed.

“Yes Sir,” he repeats. “You say that so prettily, Allie.”

I hear the sounds of sliding silk. Fabric caresses my skin, trailing a delicious, heated path from my pussy, up towards my clamped nipples, and over my parted lips. I shiver in response, and wish I could see what he is doing to me.

Something slithers over my ankle, and his hand closes around it. “I’m tying you up, myshka,” he tells me.

“Thank you, Sir.” I don’t actually understand why I’m thanking him, but the intense emotions I’m feeling at the moment need an outlet of some kind.

My legs are tied. My hands as well. I’m spread-eagled on the table, and I couldn’t be more turned on. Nikolai could do anything to me, and because I trust him perfectly, that sense of powerlessness translates into a shockwave of arousal.

His fingers trail once more over my captive body. Sparkles of lust follow his touch. A soft, slow slide up my calves, curving to my inner thighs, getting painfully close to my pussy before dancing away, to rest over my abs, and then to my breasts. He cups them, and I shiver in pleasure.

Thankfully, my pussy isn’t neglected for long. I can only hope that he too is impatient with desire. As for me, there is a deep ache that can only be filled by his hard cock.

It isn’t his cock that pushes into me. It is one finger. I want to protest loudly. I want to insist that he fuck me, damn it. But I keep quiet. Nikolai is quite capable of stopping entirely if he is displeased with me, and send me to bed, aching and unfulfilled. And if he does demand I do that, I know I’ll obey him, and my evening will suck. Best to stay silent.

His finger explores my pussy, rubbing up and down in a steady motion that has me straining my hips upward, begging for more. And my silence is rewarded, because, soon enough, two hands are spreading my lips apart, exposing my pink inner folds to his view. “Oh, Allie,” he says, his voice husky. “This is such a beautiful sight. Your clitoris is straining towards me, just begging for more.”

No doubt.

“Do you want to come?”

“Oh, god yes,” I breathe. At last. I don’t care if my ready willingness amuses him. I’m too wound up, too much at the edge. I need this. I need his permission to fall apart.

He kisses my mound, and I feel his stubble scratch against my tender flesh. Another dimension of pleasure. “Come any time you want, myshka,” he says, as the fingers of one hand keep me open, and the fingers of the other trace sure circles around my engorged nub.

My breathing intensifies. I throw my head back and close my eyes, and I make keening noises of lust. Sensation, sparkling, pleasurable lightning bolts of sensation travel through my body, radiating outward from my sex to suffuse through my body. I hear his hum of pleasure as my hips arch towards him, my body mutely begging for more of his touch. Every sense is heightened by the blindfold.