[upst] [1989] Upstairs [Fm bdsm semi-cons]
Upstairs, by Rajah Dodger <rdodger@hotmail.com>, Copyright
(c) 1989. Originally written under the pseudonym "Major Havoc".
All rights reserved, except that electronic not-for-profit
reproduction rights only are explicitly granted with the
stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain
attached.
Word Count: 2059
My wife was out of town for the week, which left me without
much to do besides watching TV or catching the basketball games
on the radio. So when rush hour hit, I headed to a nearby bar
and sat at the rail to check out the traffic, ordering a gin and
tonic to pass the time. It was an upscale crowd -- yuppies,
businessmen like myself, you know the type.
As I swiveled my barstool around, getting a quick 360 of the
clientele, I realized there was a woman sitting next to me. A
good-looking brunette in a well-tailored business suit. And
unless I was very much mistaken, she had been giving me the eye.
I turned around, and she was there all right, looking at me
with an expression I couldn't quite fathom. "Rough day?" she
asked, and I relaxed and moved into the "office work" routine
with half my mind while the other half tried to figure what she
was looking for. She was friendly enough, and I tuned back into
our discussion just in time to hear myself recommend a little
Chinese place for dinner.
We ate at Yank Soo's in one of the booths overlooking the
river. Separate checks, of course. She told me about life in the
field of accounting and how hard it was for a woman to get ahead
in a male-dominated area. We talked about college and career,
and found a mutual interest in old jazz. Turns out she had some
early Blue Note disks I had been looking for years, so I asked
about taping them for my collection and she invited me to come
over and give them a listen first.
Her "little place" was a Victorian brownstone in one of the
more expensive neighborhoods. I pulled into the second bay of
the two-car garage since it looked like rain. She showed me into
the music room as she went to fix something to drink. I was
impressed -- her jazz collection was something incredible, from
rare Bird to just about every Monk album ever released. I found
the records we had discussed and put one on the turntable, then
sat on the couch and listened. Cool, sweet, jazz -- I closed my
eyes and drank in the sound. At some point in the first track
she put a drink in my hand, and I sipped as I listened.
The first track ended, and I opened my eyes to see her
beside me on the couch. Somehow, taking her in my arms was the
easiest thing to do, and when the second track began we just
naturally rose to start dancing. Her hands drifted down to the
base of my spine, and I became aware of the points of her breasts
through the silk blouse she wore. We turned so she was dancing
with her back to me, moving her hips back into mine. I cupped
her breasts, and heard her sigh as she leaned into me. She
turned around, and as our dance went on she unbuttoned my shirt,
then removed it and my jacket. Next to go was her jacket and
blouse, and we danced through the next solo with her hands inside
the back of my pants.
"Come upstairs," she breathed, running one hand between my
legs, and I didn't have the will to resist her. She unfastened
my pants there in the music room, leaving me in shorts alone,
took off her bra, and kissed me long and deep, my hands roaming
over her back and down farther. She led me up the stairs, one
hand in my shorts, and opened the door to her bedroom. There was
a large bed there, a music system equal to the one downstairs,
and a low metal Sixties-style bench with a fur seat by a
curtained wall. She asked me to sit on the bench, and as the
music from downstairs continued, used her own fingers to bring
her nipples into proud erection. "Kiss me," she said, offering a
ripe tit, and I cooperated, drawing it into my mouth with lips
and tongue. "Harder," she moaned, and I used my teeth and tongue,
feeling it become stiff and swollen. She pulled away, then
offered the other breast for the same treatment. When she pulled
away this time, her face -- indeed her whole upper body -- was
flushed. She beckoned with one finger, and I came to her to slip
her skirt off, revealing a black pair of crotchless panties. I
slipped a finger between her thighs, finding that she was already
warm and wet.
She asked me to turn around, so I did so, facing the bench
and wall as she dragged my shorts down, my penis spring free to
smack audibly against my belly. I felt her hands move down my
legs, and then a clicking sound. I looked down to realize that
she had just fastened a set of fur-lined cuffs around my ankles
and snapped them to the bottom legs of the bench. She pushed me
forward, and as I fell she grabbed one arm, then the other,
fastening them similarly to the other end. I began to appreciate
the design of the bench in a different light now. The seat of
the bench ran from just below my neck to just above my waist,
then the bench legs went out at an angle, leaving me open to the
air from the belly button to mid-thigh. I couldn't see what she
was doing, but I could still smell her private aroma, and that
maintained my flagging erection.
She slid a footstool beneath my chin, lifting my head so I
could see the slit in her panties and smell the juices that were
already gathered there. As she slid forward, I stretched my
tongue out to meet her, finding her hot and wet inside. She
gripped my head as I kissed and licked, and ran trails with her
nails around my ears, the back of my neck, my armpits, each nail
leaving a trace I could feel as clearly as reading a map. I felt
something toying with the head of my penis -- she had stretched
her legs and gripped me with her toes. Now she pulled slightly
away from my face, and I had to stretch my head and tongue to
reach her, as she braced her hands on my shoulders and began
working me with her feet. I could not hold off, but as I began
to shoot I felt her begin her own spasms around my tongue.
She bent her knee, bringing one foot onto the stool, her
toes between my face and her pussy. "Suck," she commanded, and
despite some misgivings I did, mingling the acrid taste of my own
fluid with the heavy smell of her juices. She buried my face
inside her pussy again, and I licked and nibbled until she was
satisfied. She arose, moving to my nether end, and I heard a
buzzing sound, then felt a vibrator moving over my thighs,
between my legs, between my cheeks. She parted my cheeks and I
felt her finger work its way into the opening there, moving in
and out until I relaxed. Then her finger was replaced by
something thicker that went in until my muscles clamped around a
narrow portion. She ran the vibrator over the end of the plug,
and the sensation was so intense, that to my surprise I found
myself becoming erect again.
She unhooked the cuffs from the bench, and helped me to
stand erect, taking me in a full body kiss, tongues fighting for
space, then sliding slowly down my body to taste and tease my
nipples as I cupped and squeezed her full breasts. Each move I
made caused the plug to wiggle, making my erection bob and jerk
against her. "Poor baby, we've been neglecting you," she said,
and sank to her knees to engulf me in the moist cavern of her
mouth. I closed my eyes and stroked her fine hair as her tongue
and lips worked their magic on me, all the while her fingers were
pinching, caressing and stroking my thighs, cheeks, genitals. My
breath was coming ragged as she held me on the edge of erupting.
She pulled away, holding me in her hand as she led me to a
curtained wall, then drew the curtain aside to reveal a large
metal frame with D-rings at the corners. She backed me up and
attached my feet to the corners, spreading my legs to do so, then
kissed and licked her way up my body, finally lifting my arms and
hooking their cuffs to the top corners of the frame. By now she
was riding on top of me, rubbing her labia around my aching
member, her breasts hot against my chest.
She moved her head down to kiss and worry my nipple, then
made me gasp as she clipped something to it. She repeated the
treatment on my other nipple, then slid down and wrapped her
breasts around my erection, bring it up harder (if possible).
Now she attached some sort of clamp to the skin just below the
head, with a weight attached to the clamp. The weight magnified
every movement I make. As she stepped away from the frame, my
attention wavered between the growing pain at my nipples, the
constant reminder of the anal plug, and the self-jerking action
of my cock. Her face was radiant as she watched me quiver.
She asked me, "What would you like first?" but I could not
give her an answer. Remove the clips? Take me into her mouth?
Unhook my arms? She chuckled at my indecision, then went to the
side of the frame, unhooked a bar, and swung the frame out, now
perpendicular to the wall. "You'll like this, I think," she
said, scraping her nails up my ass cheeks, wiggling the plug to
draw a low moan from me. She took the weight and fastened it to
the anal plug, so every motion I made was now reflected.
I heard her step away, then I could not hear her at all. My
nipples felt on fire, and all the squirming I could manage in
that frame would not budge them. But all that movement did shake
the weight and move the plug, making my aching erection harder.
Where did she go? I began to worry how long she was going to
leave me and finally yelled "Hello? Where are you?" I got my
answer as my ass exploded in pain. Whack! Whack! She had re-
entered the room quietly and now was strapping my ass. I cried
out from the shock, her only response more laughter. Every jolt
of the strap seemed to run from the base of my ass cheeks to the
head of my erection.
When she finally stopped the spanking, I thanked her in
relief, asking what she wanted from me. "Aren't you enjoying
yourself?" she answered, "Oh, silly me, you have all these tight
muscles that need to be loosened." She began stroking my ass,
her palms cool relief against my abused flesh. She started
moving the anal plug in and out, fucking my ass with it while the
attached weight pulled my cock up and down in return. The
sensations finally overwhelmed me, and without her ever touching
my cock directly I came, long and hard, in spasm after spasm, her
fingers continuing to move until I was slumped boneless in the
frame. I barely whimpered at the pain when she removed the
clips, then released me from the frame.
Eventually I gathered the strength to get dressed -- she had
done so already and had coffee brewing down in the kitchen. We
shared a cup together in silence. As I got up to leave, she
said, "We really must get together again." The thought was
tempting, but thinking of my wife, I declined. "No, I really
think we must" she said more firmly, and handed me a photograph.
I hadn't noticed a camera at the time, but the photograph
was clearly recognizable as me, naked in the frame, nipples
clipped, face locked in a rictus of pleasure, strands of semen
flying in the air. "I have your number," she said as I left.
I think she does.
/end/ (c) 1989 Rajah Dodger (c) All Rights Reserved
///// This was my second distributed story.