Unexpected pleasure. These would be his first choice words for describing the evening he'd had.
Role play was one of his better known kinks with the lovers he – or rather, old Nick – had had. The investigator and the spy or the prisoner routine was a popular one for those who'd wanted to play along but it was rare that any of them got deeply into their character and less often still that he found himself on the receiving end.
He looked down to his lover who slept soundly against his bare chest. His thumb traced circles over the smooth skin of her shoulder. His muscles still ached.
It wasn't that he didn't enjoy playing the dominant role – the detective, but it was nice to get to be the villain for a change. To try something a bit different and he'd sure as hell let her do it again.
He played over the evening in his mind, a swell of arousal rising with the fresh memory.
She had asked him that morning what he was 'into' and after telling her truthfully he'd watched her lips curl seductively, her fingers entwining in his tie. She had offered him a scenario and he'd quickly warmed to it;
'The crooked cop who had been involved with the smuggling of drugs and weapons, blurring evidence and keeping his gang off the radar being found out by one of his colleagues. Said colleague confronts him and 'presses him for information on the gang'.'
Then she had released him, her lips barely a hair's breadth from his own. Ellie had arrived for the day's work not long after and he had spent the entire day in a limbo between a deep carnal desire and deprived frustration.
The latter was the more dominant occupant of his senses by the time evening arrived and Ellie had gone home. He prided himself on his self-control and reservation but after the hype of the morning she had lured him into with that seductive purr and the light teasing and touches she had subjected him to almost tactically throughout the day he was beginning to feel more than a little pent up.
He had retired to his bedding area early and had quickly found his arms lifted and bound. He looked up to see a set of handcuffs had been hooked over one of the steps leading to the upper floor, his hands clasped on the other side making it impossible to move far or sit down.
An unexpected display of ingenuity as he'd fully expected to find himself strapped to a chair or the bed frame. A smirk tugged at his lips and he closed his eyes clenching and unclenching his hands as he let himself grow accustomed to this new situation.
She brushed past him from behind leaving a craving in his form when she parted. He opened his eyes to see her standing before him, her eyes peering sternly at him from beneath the brim of her hat.
"I know what you're up to Valentine," she snarled. "And I know your pals down in Quincy plan to make another drop soon. Where. And when."
She moved in close, her face in his and her breath licking at him. Her face was taut and beautiful with the harshness of her features and he felt the smirk upon his lips tug deeper.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about doll," he drawled feeling the laid back and cocky attitude of his own character take him.
"Oh you know," she accused him dangerously. "And before the night is over you will sing for me."
He'd heard the harshness of her voice before but never directed at himself. It had a unique effect upon his body making his skin grow in sensitivity and his muscles quiver. She came close to him as she circled him but her form barely touched the clothes he wore and the deprivation of true sensation was maddening.
"Then I hope you brought your dancing shoes," he retorted wearing a mask of calm. "Because you're in for a long night."
She moved from one shoulder to the other and when she stopped her nose brushed along his own, her lips almost pressing to his. "Oh. I have all the time in the world Mr Valentine."
And then she was gone, her breath lingering only briefly against his face.
She turned her back to him and removed her coat and hat throwing them down on the bed. The shirt she wore beneath was tight fitting and the braces to her trousers only served to frame the breasts that lay beneath.
His groin ached unattended and he swallowed with a dry mouth, his heart pounding.
"Where will your friends be meeting Mr Valentine?" she asked, her tone far more casual now – the 'good cop' routine taking precedence.
"Annie's Dinner." An imagined lie, his bemused features would tell her so. "Every Friday. We like the pies."
Her hands moved to lay flat upon his chest, her palms pressing to his nipples through his shirt before she abandoned them to instead slide up and loosen his tie.
"Where will your friends be meeting? .. Mr Valentine?" she asked again and he felt the hair raise on the back of his neck.
"Sorry doll. Men only this time. Maybe I can convince 'em to a women's night the week after."
Her hands stroked the line of his jaw and along his neck causing him to supress a shiver. Her fingers began undoing the buttons, opening up his shirt.
For every lie, more of his clothes were loosened and she asked him the same question again with increasingly seductive tones and tormentative caresses and touches to his already aroused and needy body.
His member had swollen and had been left to relax a number of times this day and by the time she had him stripped to his socks, his shirt hanging open about his shoulders serving to hide nothing of his exposed form, the denial of touch to his more sensitive areas was serving her with agonising effect. It was a physical and mental effort now to keep himself from panting, his muscles straining with protest to the endless teasing.
Raising his head he glared at her – his glowing amber eyes holding onto his defiance. This was now a battle of desires for his character role. Raw physical need verses the pride of retaining his secrets.
The look seemed to please her, her smile widening as she pulled a ribbon from her pocket. It was a deep red with what looked to be a small weight attached to it. He eyed it curiously.
A sway to her hips she moved towards him, her eyes raking across his body, defiling all rights to privacy and decency. He failed to suppress the shiver this time and he felt his body twitch once again, his manhood stirring.
She reached down and he almost made an audible sound of wanting at the thought of near relief but her fingers did not brush against his skin. Instead he felt as the ribbon wrapped around his length, the weight being allowed to drop offering him a sharp 'tug' when it bounded in the air.
This was a new and strange sensation. It offered little in the way of stimulation and yet it hung there as a constant, physical reminder of his body's cravings as his erection fought to stand against the weight holding it downward.
Against his will he found his own body lifting at the hips experimentally whilst she turned to fetch something else from her drawer trying to see if he could angle the weight and tie to offer more in the way of respite and pleasure.
When she returned to him his attention was brought back to her, and more importantly the item she was carrying. It looked like a baton; wooden, polished and smooth. A few thoughts entered his mind and he was uncertain if he ought to be worried or excited.
A little of both maybe.
Circling him again he felt the cool, hard object make firm, unpainful contact with his rear. He grit his teeth as the jolt sent the weight bouncing slightly again tugging at an organ that yearned for attention.
"Perhaps I have been ungenerous," she mused and he could feel his cheeks being explored by the smooth surface of the baton. "Perhaps a trade would be a little more enticing. You give me what I want, Mr Valentine, and I will give you what you want."
The hard length slipped down between his legs lifting his balls. His breath hitched in his throat and he needed a second to gather himself for his defiant response – the strength no longer quiet behind his words even to his own ears.
"There is nothing I want."
She laughs lifting her chosen toy to gently massage his perineum. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his knees to hold him steady instead of buckling as they so desired.
"Oh I think otherwise," she purred.
Greater pressure was applied, the toy lifting to press and stroke firmly behind his sack. Had it always been so sensitive there? Or was it a glitch to his programming? And how did she know about it?
He could feel his chest rise and fall, his breathing heavy and his head fell back. He had waited for this yet all too soon the pressure was removed and he could hear her shifting behind him.
Before he could commit to protesting or retaining his silence he felt her fingers stroke down between his cheeks, something warm and oily coating them. His breath stilled once again, his usually quick mind turning summersaults as it tried to catch up with this turn of events.
Fingers gently probed him sending strangely pleasant tingles throughout his thighs and groin. She kept up her administrations falling into a gentle rhythm before removing them and replacing them with the narrow end of her toy pressed against his rear.
The muscles of his torso tightened solidly and he turned his head just in time to meet hers as her chin came to rest upon his shoulder, her free hand resting palm flat against his abdomen – a sign he remembers her earlier stating that she was acting out of character for the moment.
"Try to relax.." she whispered to him, her lips laying a gentle kiss upon his neck. She made no effort to enter him and he knew from their earlier discussion that the utterance of their safe word would have her untie him.
He took a moment, levelling his breathing and trying to let his body settle. Her hand rubbed a gentle circle where it lay and her voice offered softly spoken words of advice through this new experience.
"Bend at the knee if it helps, but try not to tense up.."
He breathed out a lengthy sigh feeling his body entered, his walls parting to make way for this determined guest. She pressed in and held it there a moment before he felt the item retreat entirely allowing for his muscles to settle and readjust before she went through the process of entering him again, this time her hand removed and their characters resumed.
There was something there. Something unexpected. A pleasure spot he was not even aware he had possessed.
His balls ached heavily now, his breathing uneven pants and his senses thrown into chaos.
She pressed in against his prostrate earning a moan from him. A repeated motion is adopted, gently at first as he grows accustomed to the sensations within his own pent up body.
Already he can feel his shoulders shaking, his hands clenching tightly to themselves, restrained from grasping anything else.
"Are you willing to talk?" she asks him holding pressure still on his sweet spot.
Speech came difficultly to him but he held his head high shaking it. "I have n-nothing to say!" he stated.
The response was a hand reaching around his torso to rub lightly over a risen nipple. Gods.. when had they become so sensitive?
The movement against his prostrate picked up again, his hips began to rock to the motion, the weight swinging with the motion and tormenting his manhood cruelly.
She gave no mercy in her invasion of his body and at the point his knees started to threaten rebellion again she stopped and pinched at his nipple a little more. He winced biting his lip.
"…?"
Not a word left her lips but the question held in the air between them and he was too far gone to feel shame of turning in these imaginary friends of his. He invented a time and a place, his voice deep and raspy.
Her hand stroked his chest fondly the motion picking up again, this time with more vigour. The jolt of electricity seemed to shoot up his spin, his back arching back and his muscles stretching out with an orgasm that seemed to span most of his body.
His cheeks clenched and she helped him ride this new wave of pleasure before coaxing him to try and relax again releasing the chosen toy safely to be set aside.
He felt his lungs battle for air and watched her move in front of him. He smiled to her expecting her to untie him but there was something in her eyes and instead of lifting up to free his hands her arms instead moved to drape around his neck.
Her nose pressed to his but she refused him the kiss he had hoped for.
"Now then. I want you to tell me 'who' I am likely to find there," she stated and his eyes widened. They were still going?
Taking check of himself his member throbbed. It still remained firm, the rear orgasm seemingly having a separate effect to the usual release. He swallowed, his body was already tired.
"I.. There.. No one," he lied feebly, his mind battling for coherent thought. "It's long past their curfew," he adds attempting a smoother response.
Her hand slips down across his neck and chest, down his hip and along his thigh. She slowly collects his balls in her palm and then squeezes.
"You know I don't like surprise parties. I'd like to be able to cater for everyone," she persists.
"I'd love to introduce ya but they're a shy bunch. Don't like strangers much."
"Oh but I can be so very friendly."
Releasing him her index and middle fingers move to 'walk' their way down his length. It twitched in want and he sighed with long awaited pleasure as one of those fingers stroked lightly past his sensitive gland and along the head.
She petted him lightly allowing the tension to build before removing her hand completely and leaving him hanging loosely once again.
"…." He turned his head not willing to speak their names.
Her hand wraps around him and draws him out sending a violent shiver up his sides. His lips part but no sound reaches the air.
A repeated motion is broken only occasionally when her hand reaches instead to massage the tip. Her head moves to his and her tongue strokes up his cheek. "Tell me.." she whispers to his ear and he grits his teeth against the desire to do so.
Pulling away she descends, her breath soon resting against the flesh of his molested manhood. Her tongue flicks out again, this time to run circles around the head, catching the glands in soft repeated motion.
His legs part to give her greater access but as he nears release her fingers move to hold him tightly at the base of his shaft and he restrains a groan. Barely.
She continues by sucking on him lightly no longer bothering to ask her questions verbally but letting them hang in the air between him and his desired orgasm.
The strain burns deeply, his loins on fire and his shoulders ache from being held up for so long against the downward tug of his body.
"Goldie!" he calls out with some resentment. "Copperfield. Silvia…" He makes the names up through the fog clouding his better senses and he can feel her lips curl into a smile around him.
A deep moan escapes him as she takes him into her mouth, her tongue hooking around him and playing with him before her head begins to bob back and forth.
His hips buck and he wishes that he could run his fingers through her hair. Instead they have to content themselves with the metal chain between his restraints.
Her fingers release their hold upon his base and with a breathy call he feels his body free itself, his synthetic seed swallowed without thought or protest, her mouth moving to suck lightly on him until his wave of pleasure, more localised this time, has run its full course.
It is then that she lifted herself, this scene of what he hoped would turn into an ongoing roleplay as she'd suggested, ending.
She released the locks that bound his wrists and he immediately used his freedom to wrap his arms about her tightly pulling her into a long and passion filled kiss.
His words failed him but his eyes met hers warmly and she smiled drawing him to their bed. Sleep was her next interest and he was left with the appealing notion that the next 'scene' was his turn to take the lead.
What forms of 'revenge' would the corrupted 'Mr Valentine' chose to take on his alluring interrogator?
