Chapter Two
Prisoner of Lust
Abby's going out of her mind, and even begging won't stop him from this delicious torture - or start him moving to the next level.
She tries to sit further forward in the passenger seat, her legs lewdly spread, her breaths reduced to erotic gasps she can't believe he's refusing, but he won't take her or ease the needs that drive her insane.
Secret sex with him is always more than she expects. He's such an imaginative lover he keeps her continually in wonder. He works so close and he's completely shattered her concentration. He never comes to her at work other than on 'business' - and when they're alone - but he stays at arm's length and it drives her out of her mind.
But every time, after they're together for a night, she can't think of anything but what they've done. Her tingling body won't let her. It's most intense when she knows he's coming for her; those are the days her body screams for him.
He has two rules she must obey, because she's promised to and she knows it'll ruin things if she breaks them even when she's seconds from leaping out of her skin. She can never reveal their clandestine sex and, no matter how the tension mounts in her, no matter how much she thinks of him, longs for him, desperately needs what he's going to do for her, she may not relieve her mounting tension which by noon always has her wanting to scream for release and shriek at the number of hours that remain.
Today's his day. For the next twenty four hours, until Saturday 1600, she's his and his plan is driving her insane. He's promised her something completely different and he's being more secretive than usual. He's often required told her not wear bra or panties. Today it's easy, the sweltering summer day makes this restriction a convenience.
But today he'd insisted upon more. Other than her lab coat she's forbidden collar and wrist bands, blouse or skirt. She can't even wear a tee shirt or skirt. She can't wear anything!
Now, as he drives too slowly and they pass close to perhaps not-so-oblivious commuters, her lab coat open but for one button at her stomach, her legs spread wide and his hand too still on her thigh, two inches from her trembling labia, she feels more naked - more wanton - than she has in years.
ooo
She flashes back to the day he'd first shaved her. That was his first move and had defined certain aspects of sex for her. He'd made it clear from the beginning how much he dislikes any interference either to his mouth or hard member.
Since then, she's kept herself smooth - just for him. Every time she wears panties or thong - or doesn't - she feels virginal, vulnerable. That she knows he alone knows how utterly bare, how open to him she is, only makes the anticipation, and the ultimate gratification, so much better.
That moment had been dreamlike, and she's dreamt about it so many times since. His warm lather, the sharp blade so close, so very close, wisking away interference, his fingers, his mouth, his...
Laying down within her coffin, her right leg draped over the edge and her left knee high, resting on the velvet lined lid, spread wide for him, what he'd done astonished and thrilled her.
First he took from a bag an electric razor and, starting at the top of her mons, used the trimmer to remove every bit of her fur right down to her skin.
The vibrations of the razor thrilled her, but she very carefully held still as he got closer and closer - and closer. He didn't get too close, not once did she feel a bite on her sensitive and ever moistening labia, but inch after inch of her fur vanished, leaving her vulnerable, defenseless, available...
His.
When he'd seemed done, when the intimate vibrations stopped, he was only half done. Closer, more intimate work with cream and straight edge followed until she was completely smooth, not the tiniest hair remained to interfere.
The cream itself caused its own tingling on her newly virginal flesh, and her labia, untouched for years without the protective barrier of pubic fur, magnified every touch to the point that a stray breeze became a sexual caress.
For the first time in years she was completely open, absolutely vulnerable and those maddening sensations left her longing for him.
He'd stood looking at her and her vulnerable need, and now her far more sensitive body was driving her crazy. Every stray breeze from the slowly rotating ceiling fan above her open coffin touched her more sensually than she could ever remember. Her virginal flesh, her wet lips quivering, she needed him more than she'd needed a man in her felt his eyes petting her, his gaze entering her wet, parted lips.
She'd reached down for herself, for her thrumming clitoris, her tingling lips so utterly bare and longing, but he gently caught her hands.
"No, you do not touch yourself," he reminded her of his second rule.
"Touch me. Take me."
His first touch on her labia was like a billion volts surging through her pussy.
x
Since that night she'd kept herself perfectly smooth, perfectly vulnerable, available for everything he wanted.
He was the only one who knew, as she went about her days, as she stood before him discussing some case or other, how naked she was, how available she was to him. Even with panties or, if she was feeling naughty, a G-string, she was aware of how vulnerable she was to him, and that he knew it too drove her mad. He knew, though he never acted in her lab or elsewhere, how open she was to any sensation, any touch of his hand, his lips, his...
xx
Work today was a nightmare. It was impossible to concentrate. He'd told her their twenty four hours would start at 1600 but from morning she was to be without blouse, without skirt, without bra, without panties.
She was so aware of her defenseless breasts, every breath rubbed the material of the white lab coat upon her, teased her hard nipples until they felt like firecrackers going off with every stroke of the long coat along them.
But the most maddening was to be without the protection of panties. Every time she moved, her coat teased her bare ass or, a thousand times worse, her ultrasensitive crotch. Even standing still in the air conditioned lab, the material petted her in those slight breezes and attacked her wherever she stepped.
x
And the Agents who visited her lab, they were the most maddening of all. She had to be there, or walk around, with men and women who she imagined knew she was naked. She was sure she couldn't help dozens of unintentional flashes - there aren't that many buttons on this coat. She imagined the men could smell her sex, that they knew she was a cat in heat.
She felt every man's eyes caress her and she's sure her erect nipples under her teasingly moving lab coat gave her away. Standing there, she knew they knew and she wanted them. She was vulnerable, open - and she knew they knew.
She was sure the first man who innocently brushed against her would drive her over the edge and she'd grab him and...
x
But it didn't happen. Every time she crossed the lab her bare, moist pussy tingled, and it positively thrummed whenever any agent looked at her. Every time she sat down at her office chair the pad pressed her and she bit her cheek to keep from moaning.
Fourteen hundred was nightmare, fourteen thirty was agony, by fifteen she'd gladly have thrown herself on the next agent to walk in and beg him to take her. At fifteen thirty she was ready to hunt some willing victim and take him down to the floor.
Sixteen hundred finally came and she's sure she's never rushed out of her lab faster. She'll tell anyone who asks tomorrow that she got sick - if she can walk well enough to come in on Monday.
ooo
By the time he turns the car left onto a thin private road, long after they've left the suburbs, she has no idea where they are. He hasn't moved his hand but her muscles quiver as though her legs are hopping bunnies.
It's taken more willpower than she has to keep her hands from herself. Despite her best efforts her control shatters and she strokes her breasts. She imagines they're his skillful hands doing everything she needs, but she can't bring herself over.
She's not allowed to. He's assured her that if she breaks the rules she'll enjoy the evening less, yet he doesn't stop her. But stroking her own breasts is both breaking the rules and making her tension far worse rather than better.
He doesn't admonish her to stop working her breasts, probably because he knows she's only intensifying the sensations that already tear at her mind. She's not allowed to bring herself to orgasm, so the more she touches herself the higher the rocket soars without exploding and the tighter her muscles strain.
Her nerves are so taut she feels she'll shatter. Her labia twitch and tighten with every beat of her pounding heart and still his hot hand rests on her thigh two inches from her trembling, wet labia, close enough to drive her mad and far enough to maje her insane!
With every bump of the road his hand moves yet doesn't approach and she feels the anticipation every time. The breeze from the slightly open window plays over her breasts and teases her nipples and brushes across her trembling clitoris. She fights to keep her trembling hips still, her legs spread wantonly. She can't get him to touch her, can't even shift forward unexpectedly without breaking their rules but if she can't break this torturous 'second from super nova' soon she'll scream.
x
By the time he turns off the motor her breasts feel like two atomic warheads an instant from detonation and her steaming vagina's trembling like it'd reach out and grab that damned teasing hand.
"Take off your boots and socks."
The tone is assured, as though he knows she'd never disobey or even hesitate. That it's true means little, the command is absolute.
She unbinds and removes her tall black and red boots and in moments her feet are as bare as - save for one button on her lab coat - the rest of her is.
x
He's out of the car, too suddenly away from her and she can't get her shaking hand to work the latch. He comes around, opens the door, a single small paper bag in his hand. He tosses this onto the hood of the car and he draws her out into a fiery kiss.
She moans into his mouth, can't slow her trembling breath and his right hand slips down her body and inside her gaping coat, gently strokes her shaved mons, the small hill sloping to the valley of her vagina, yet he keeps far uphill of her quivering lips.
x
She doesn't recognize this place. She hadn't paid attention to the trip and only knows she doesn't earn enough to even look at, let alone drive into, one of these homes. Her wonder increases. Every home, separated by acres of lawns, costs more than she'll earn from puberty to old age. He's parked so close to the edge of the driveway that she's standing on the lawn, the grass tickling her bare feet.
"What are we doing here?" she breathes, breaking the kiss as briefly as possible. It takes him almost a minute to be able to say
"House of a good friend."
This is more and more mysterious and she can stand no more mysteries. "What are you doing?"
He pushes her back a few inches, points to her right. "That."
x
The estate, as they'd entered, had been screened by a line of thick evergreens which blocked her view of the green structure until they were past the trees. Now she stares at the seven foot tall, hundred foot wall of green plants and multihued flowers evidently threaded through some support and wonders if he's completely lost his mind.
"Listen," he says, yanking back her attention; mystification having cracked her horniness. "Charley's gone for a few days, said I could use his maze."
She turns back to the wall of plants. At first look it had appeared to be solid, now she sees it's a hundred feet, probably a hundred feet square, of interwoven vines, plants and flowers with a ten foot wide opening in the middle. "A maze?"
"He uses it for entertaining at parties."
This declaration turns her back and he pulls her closer, his hot hands firm on her and she tries to put all her need, all her passion, all her lust into this kiss.
It's over too soon.
The flowery green maze stretches forty feet in either direction of the wide opening and all Abby can see is the inner green wall of flowers five feet in.
"Ready?" he asks. He turns her to him and undoes the final button on her white lab coat, pushes it off her bare shoulders and lets it drop in a cloth puddle behind her.
x
She doesn't hesitate now. Lust flaring to full flame, her fingers tremble so much she can barely work the buttons of his shirt, but she gets it open and pushes it out of her way. He wears way too much for a summer evening devoted to passion, so she yanks his shirt from his pants, down his arms and throws it on the manicured lawn as he indulges in fondling her breasts - very thoroughly - and she reaches with shaking hands for his belt. She's so fired she can barely breathe.
She pulls the belt open and the hook of his pants follows. She nearly breaks the zipper, shoves and pulls at pants, tee shirt and undershorts to get the cloth interference out of her way. When his thick rod is clear, the reddened tip pointing straight to her broiling vagina, she starts to get down to her knees.
His grip on her shoulders stops her, holds her up on her bare feet.
He backs her against the car, the heat of the engine warming her already hot butt.
He'd tossed the paper bag on the hood beside her, but his hands on her shoulders turn her about to face the car hood and he presses her bare hips against the side of the car, trapping her between two hard heats. She wiggles her bottom, enjoying the feel of his hard shaft between her cheeks.
He pushes her forward, bends her over the heated hood and she doesn't mind a bit. The metal warms her breasts and she imagines how hot they'll be to him when he returns his hands - and more - to them. She spreads her legs wide, far enough apart to make herself entirely vulnerable to him. She's not sure what the green and flowery maze he's shown her has to do with this, but if he wants to take her right here, bent over the hot hood, her breasts and crotch heating more by the second, she's fine with that.
x
He pulls her right arm back and she's happy to reach for him pressed into the crevasse between her cheeks, but a moment later he pulls her hand away from him. She feels something threaded over her questing hand and tugged firmly about her wrist.
She pulls her arm away, her hand now back on the hood near her face. A length of half inch diameter blue silken rope grips her wrist.
She's still pinned to the warm metal with his warmer member between her cheeks and he pulls the cord taut, pulls her right hand back while he grabs her left wrist, pulls both arms behind her. He positions her forearms level across her back, her right hand cupping her left elbow, her left hand resting upon her right arm, palm down and grasping her elbow.
"You only have to say 'no'."
x
She'd mentioned bondage but as a tease; had never imagined he intended to do it. He's never tied her up before - no one's ever tied her up before - and for an instant 'no' is very close to her lips. But then she remembers her trust; he won't hurt her or let her get hurt, and if he wants to tie her up, to make her as helpless by rope as she is by desire...
"Do it!"
He pulls the loop more firmly about her wrist, wraps the blue rope about her hand that cups her left elbow. He starts to lace the rope over and over again up her left arm, the ties not too tight but very firm.
As he works she feels his hard shaft, nestled up between her cheeks, actually getting harder, hotter, and she wiggles her bum to make his long shaft more welcome. Her breath comes heavier, sharper as he binds her and her heart pounding in her chest drums in her ears.
He knots the ends of the blue laces high up her arm and he actually ties it off near her shoulder with a bow.
In all the time he worked she's held her left hand where he placed it, palm down and fingertips nestled into the bend of her elbow. Now he loops another rope over her left hand, tugs it tight about her wrist and starts lacing it again and again over her right hand and up her right upper arm.
As the laces go higher so does her lust. Her forearms are together, hand to opposite elbow, forearms parallel to the ground - good thing she's very limber - but she's thoroughly bound and the bows are far up out of reach near her shoulders.
She's never been tied up before and she can't stop gasping, her racing heart slamming her chest and her pussy trembles to the rhythm. She feels a warm trickle down her left thigh and knows it'll soon be a flood. Head pressed to the metal, ear pressed to the hood, she hears the drumbeat of her heart pound heavy and fast against the metal.
He makes another decorative bow near her shoulder and she can't wait for what he's going to do to her next.
She'd only thought before that she was his. Now she's utterly helpless, his obedient prisoner, his to do with as he pleases.