Authors: Jayne Rylon
StarofChristmas (5 page)
Liar!
The truth is plain in his eyes. He took it up
the ass this afternoon. Knowing he allowed Jeremy to insert the unit and rule
his pleasure poises me on the brink of orgasm.
Rick shuts off the current from the power box for both our
safety. It’d be easy to create an unintentional circuit if he handled the
diodes live. He plugs the latest addition into the generator then slides the
blunt tip between my legs. He feeds it to me an inch at a time until the entire
length of the smooth device is buried in my pussy.
I hug the invader with well-developed muscles. Mmm. It’s so
nice to be full.
Two wires, one black and one red, protrude from the base of
the diode. A spreader bar at the top holds the lips of my pussy open and a
final diode—this one a tiny cup—settles over my clit like a thimble. A set of
clips on the bar allow Rick to pin the folds of my pussy open for an ideal view
that won’t vanish when I begin to writhe.
Two ribbons are tied to grommets on either side of the base.
He uses them to fasten the device around my waist, locking it in place. The
cool material on my swollen genitals incites waves of anticipation.
It takes a few minutes for the passion clouding my vision to
clear. When it does, I realize Rick has unleashed his cock and stands—stroking
himself—as he observes his creation.
“There you go, Star.” He encourages me to meet his gaze. His
dilated pupils turn his eyes stormy with longing. “Tell me you need it.”
“I do.” I yell as I thrash in my bonds, eager to experience
energy bringing me to life for him—for all the men observing him mold me into
his plaything.
He flips the switch with a flick of his wrist. I’m thankful
for the restraints keeping me from dislodging the probes. They impart sumptuous
floods of stimulation to all the important pathways of my pleasure system.
Networks of nerves light up like a switchboard. Every cell in my body strains
for the release promised by the pulsating waves arcing through my pussy.
Another button pressed engages the shield over my clit. I
can see my thighs tensing and relaxing in response to the digital commands Rick
issues. Whether he intended it or not, it’s impossible to endure more than a
few seconds of this bliss without flying apart.
“Rick.” I gasp as my orgasm cartwheels through my pussy,
radiating outward to every part of my body. Even my fingertips clench and
release in time to the signal. He directs my pleasure, adding a short fizzle
that maintains my climax. He laughs out loud as he oscillates the current,
building my rapture then expanding it until I crash through pinnacle after
pinnacle.
He allows me to rest a minute before triggering another
round of ecstasy. I’ve never imagined anything so sweet. He makes me orgasm at
will. Repeatedly.
“I could watch you come all night long, Star.” Rick groans
as another series of spasms rack my body. He licks a silver ring then holds it
in front of my slitted eyes. “One last offering, love. Will you accept it?”
A bipolar diode, intended for my right breast to avoid
completing a pathway across my chest cavity, too near my heart. Still a risk. A
calculated one. I’ve come this far, I must live the full experience.
“Yes!” Another cycle of the everlasting orgasm batters my
senses but I’m clear on the choice I’ve made. Only now do I realize the board
I’m strapped to is lighting up. Hidden LEDs—unrelated to the real circuitry
pumping amperage into my willing form—dazzle the crowd. The glow expands past
my ankles, past my waist, to my chest.
Rick times his actions to the sparkling glow. When it
reaches the same level as my breasts, he affixes the nipple diode and activates
the proper channel.
I’m lost.
My entire body twitches in compulsory seizures focused to
deliver unparalleled ecstasy—a whole body orgasm. If not for the restraints he
provided, I’d flop around the floor like a fish out of water.
The crowd goes wild, moaning, cheering and shouting.
At the same time, the hot splash of Rick’s come paints me
with proof of his appreciation for my total supplication.
We’re linked in a cycle of pleasure.
Me.
Rick.
Our audience.
As shouts join ours from all across the room, the balcony
and even the stage behind us, the star on top of the tree-shaped backing board
I’m strapped to glows bright.
Lights blossom into rainbows through the prisms of my tears.
I close my eyes, one betraying droplet escaping from beneath my lids, as I wish
it were real. Why can’t this be Rick’s living room? Why can’t we share
something genuine and exciting on the eve of a new era?
This experience could fundamentally alter who we are and the
path we’ll walk together from here forward with the elemental power of our
passion.
We exchange a present beyond value.
The gift of a lifetime.
As suddenly as it began, the arc of electricity abandons me,
ending my continuous climax. I hang limp and exhausted in my bonds.
“Thank you,” Rick whispers an instant before the stillness
explodes into applause and an impossible chant.
Encore. Encore. Encore.
We have nothing left to share. We’ve left it all onstage
beneath the harsh beams and the scrutiny of a few hundred of Tommy’s new best
friends.
Stagehands rescue me, freeing me from electrodes, wires and
restraints I would have worn forever if offered a choice. They sweep us to the
dressing room as two of the club’s regulars appear for one last quickie to
appease any stranglers or those who were inspired to a second or third round of
arousal by our offering.
Encore
I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t resist.
When Rick offered to share his home with me, to spend the
rest of the night by my side, I caved to his earnest invitation. We tumbled
into his bed and slept the night away, locked in each other’s arms. Now, in the
harsh light of midmorning, I try not to count the cost.
The price will be steep because resting here, in his
sanctuary, in his arms, guarantees I’ll miss him when I return to reality.
We’re only delaying the inevitable.
“Star.”
“Yes?” I whisper, afraid to shatter the perfect peace
surrounding us.
“Remember yesterday, when you joked about Christmas dinner?”
“Uh-huh.” I sigh. He pets my hair.
“I have to leave soon. Why can’t you come with me?” He tucks
his chin to study my reaction as I burrow deeper against his chest. “My family
is open-minded. Like me. I’d like to believe they’d welcome whomever I choose
to spend my time with. Share my life with.”
“It’s too much, Rick. You can’t spring it on them like that.
No warning, no notice.” I shake my head. For him, I have to choose the right
thing despite my selfish craving to indulge. Like an addict, it’d be too easy
to treat myself to a little more then a little more until things spiraled out
of control. “It’s not right. I won’t ruin your holiday. Or your relationship
with your family. It’s too precious…”
I cut off before he can ask questions I don’t feel like
thinking about, never mind answering.
“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”
“No. I’m so sorry.”
“Then I’d like to give you your present now.” He slips his
finger beneath my chin and lifts my mouth to his for a lingering kiss. I so
rarely indulge in this intimacy. It steals my breath. Though I suspect the
glide of his tongue would have more impact than all the rest of the kisses in
the world. His lips brush across mine, affectionate and gentle enough to bring
tears to my eyes.
The soft exchange of affection is a worthy offering. I’m
surprised when he rolls me to my back and nibbles a trail along my torso.
“Rick?”
“I want to pleasure you for once.” He pauses to draw on my
breasts with tender sips then meanders below the covers. “Relax, Star. I’ll do
the work. Let
me
take care of
you
.”
He takes ages exploring every facet of my pussy with his
fingers, lips and tongue. He ingests the arousal he draws from my body, a
testament to his skill and the emotion ricocheting between us. After the
monumental release I experienced last night, this should be impossible.
It seems so odd to lie still and allow him to work on me for
a change. Yet, I relish every second. He laves the flesh between my thighs,
soothing and enflaming all at once. When I whimper, he presses a single digit
into my aching channel, giving me something to hold on to.
I bury my fingers in his hair, keeping him pressed close to
me.
Rick swirls his tongue over my clit then encloses the
swollen bundle of nerves with his lips. He caresses it with tiny sucks
intermixed with the brush of his tongue until a gentle wave of relief washes
over me.
He cleans the juice pouring from me with tiny laps that
soothe my tired, replete pussy then rubs my belly, my thighs and my ass until I
drift off into a satisfied daze, halfway to slumber.
I indulge in ten or fifteen minutes of snuggling, a glorious
treat, before he climbs from the bed, heading toward the shower with a
reluctant sigh. I’m a coward. I keep my eyes closed, my breathing shallow until
the door shuts and the splash of water ensures his preoccupation.
If I don’t escape now I won’t have the strength to do what I
know is necessary. I dress as quickly as my slack muscles can manage then draw
a scrap paper from my purse. A flier for the Kinkmas pageant. Fitting.
I scribble my note inside then fold it in half, taking time
to write his name as elegantly as possible on the outside of the red, tented
paper. At the last second, impulse spurs me to enfold the cursive in a bold
heart, as though I were still in junior high school.
I drop my pen into my bag not a moment too soon. The water
shuts off. I slip on my heels, fluff my hair then withdraw from his house.
When I cross the sidewalk in front of his living room, I
can’t prevent myself from pausing to admire the lit tree in the window. Rick
appears beside it, a towel slung low on his hips, my note in his hand. The
disappointment etched between his drawn brows eases as he glances at the single
line I jotted for him. The best present I could think of.
His sad smile expands when he raises his gaze to mine.
“Merry Christmas,
Sarah
.” Rick mouths then blows me a
kiss.
I hold my palm up, pressing it to the glass. He aligns his
hand with mine.
We touch, through the window.
I smile and walk away.
About the Author
Jayne Rylon’s stories usually begin as a daydream in an
endless business meeting. Her writing acts as a creative counterpoint to her
straight-laced corporate existence. She lives in Ohio with two cats and her
husband, who both inspires her fantasies and supports her careers. When she can
escape her office, she loves to travel the world, avoid speeding tickets in her
beloved Sky and, of course, read.
Jayne is a member of the Romance Writers of America (RWA),
the Central Ohio Fiction Writers (COFW), International Heat and Passionate Ink.
Jayne welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email address on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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