CHAPTER 14: The Virgin No More, Part 5

The mouth, kissing hard, pushes at me, tongue pushing inwards. I meet it. Opening to welcome this stranger. Blindfolded I might be, but he smells clean, wholesome, fuckable.

“Touch me,” I say. “I get it. You can’t speak. But I can. Touch me. Suck my tits. I want to be fucked.”

There is a sharp intake of breath, and I feel, lower down, the growing hardness of an erection pressing against me. The fingers are unbuttoning my top, releasing my breasts. In my mind, I imagine myself, in my little black wrap-around skirt - so easy to remove – bare-breasted, with the red silk blindfold, straddle-legged in the cuffs and arms stretched upwards, bound at the wrists.

My pussy is flowing. I must look red hot to them. Who is going to fuck me? How many are going to fuck me?

The halter-neck top falls free, and I am naked from the waist upwards. Lips fasten onto a breast, softly sucking, rolling a nipple between teeth and lips. A hand kneads at the other breast. Pleasure pulses through my veins and I moan, leaning into the caress.

Hot breath sweeps over my skin and the erection pressing against my leg hardens.

“Hot damn,” says a voice close by.

Is it him? Or is there an audience gathered around?

“Time!” shouts a voice, and there is a general murmuring and shuffling of feet. Many footsteps retreat and I hear chairs scraping again, followed by the faint swish of cards being dealt and the rattling sound again.

“Deal.”

“Damn.” The slap of cards on table, the clink of chips being moved.

Another voice. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

And the thump of a hand on table-top. “Fold.”

Yet another voice. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Twenty-one!”

This time, the immediate sound of chairs moving, followed by many footsteps.

Straddled and bound, blindfolded and half-naked, I feel powerful and alive. My sopping panties are truly uncomfortable, and I cannot wait for them to be removed.

Another body approaches me, comes in close immediately, seizing me by the waist, pulling me in, making me gasp and arch my back in response.

Lips and teeth clamp onto a nipple. A hand seizes the other nipple. The spare hand slips south and inside the wrap-skirt.

The teeth are gently nibbling my already crinkle-hard nipples, alternating between left and right, and I gasp and pant. Surely my heartbeat can be heard around the room.

The hand inside the skirt fingers its way down inside my panties, exploring, seeking. There is a “Mmmff” of satisfaction as my wet and swollen condition is discovered, and the hand withdraws to fumble for the buttons of the wrap-around.

Something about the buttons foils the fingers, and after a few seconds of impatient groping at the fastenings, the hand loses patience and simply tugs, ripping the skirt from me, leaving me only in panties and stockings.

A loudly ‘whispered’ voice drifts over the room. “She’s soaked. Look!” Followed by several “Shhhh”s.

The red silk panties must be showing every mark and hint of moisture. I picture myself, blind behind the silk binding my eyes, spread for inspection to my audience, bare-breasted, sweat trickling between my flushed breasts, and my wetness showing dark against the scarlet silk of my knickers. When the panties go, I will have only my stockings and the necklace.

Breathing harder all the time, my excitement mounting, I feel my pulse beating hard, its tempo against the leather restraints of the cuffs.

Something in the air movements around me tells me that the body close to me is standing back a little - displaying me. There is no sense of close-by, physical, heat, no scent of after-shave or male sweat.

Nonetheless, fingers are rubbing at my crotch, over the panties, pressing into my curls beneath and exploring down and in. It is exhilarating, electrifying, and I moan loudly, my hips leaning into the probing fingers.

The fingers slide inside the panties, between my hot and sensitive folds, when a voice again calls, “Time.”

I cannot help myself, and I groan with disappointment as the fingers withdraw and footsteps retreat from me. My hips are beginning to buck and tremble of their own accord, warm juices dribbling down inside my thighs.

The game resumes: again the smack of cards on a surface; the rattle of counters.

“Deal.”

Slap.

“Deal.”

Slap

“Deal.”

Slap. “Damn.”

“Deal.”

Slap.

“Deal.”

“Twenty-one!”

I quiver at the words. Will I be fucked this time? Will someone finger my clit? Suck my pussy? I am aching for relief, conscious of my rock-hard nipples and swollen cunt.

Again, the sound of chairs being pushed back and footsteps (How many? How many are there?), and then a sense of warm breath on my face.

I am kissed, hard, open-mouthed, tongue forcing in, then the mouth glides down over my breasts, briefly nipping soft teeth over a nipple, and I yelp. There is a soft chuckle of satisfaction, and the mouth continues down across my belly, to hover over my spread thighs. Fingers stroke the soft inner skin, upwards towards my sex, but not yet touching and I moan, trembling and quivering uncontrollably.

“Oh God, please. Please...” I say, wanting to beg for more, but not knowing what the ‘Rules’ are.

The fingers respond, and a single finger slips up past the sodden silk of my crotch and inwards, stroking forwards to my bud. A second finger enters from the other side of my panties, pushing back the hood, exposing my throbbing clit.

The panties are pushed to one side, and the mouth presses in, tonguing into me, swirling between my lips, and over my clit. Any trace of self-control vanishes and I scream, writhing in my bonds, as electric heat pulses up through my cunt, belly and thighs.

Fingers push up inside me, two, three, stretching me wide, thrusting, first gently, then harder as I open, expanding within.

A voice drifts over. “I think the lady is ready for a little more attention, don’t you think gentlemen? I would say she needs a good fucking to ease the strain. Probably several good fuckings. What do you say?”

There is a general murmur of agreement and voices speak out.

“Let’s get her down.”

“She’s itching for it.”

They’re right. I want to be filled. I want my brains fucked out. I want to suck cock and swallow cum. I want every man here to get his cock inside me somewhere, and shoot his load, in my cunt, my mouth, over my face or my tits. I want them singly and together.

Oh God! What am I doing?

But I want it nonetheless.

Metal clinks and my ankles are being released. Then my raised arms are released and lowered. The handcuffs remain though.

Someone fumbles at my blindfold, but a voice says, “No, leave that for now. She’s enjoying the mystery.”