“Take those off.” She gestured to the long underwear tented around my slightly diminished stiffy. “Off!”
Izzy seemed mildly surprised that I hadn’t immediately, unquestioningly obeyed her. I was too shocked by the whole pattern of events not to obey. I wriggled out of the long johns and the hardwood floor was cool against my back. “What did you just do there? I’m sorry. I mean, what happened?”
Izzy ignored my questions. She bent closer. “Put your hands together up beside the cold water pipe.”
I complied. Far too easily, she used another familiar twist of silk to bind my wrists above my head.
Far too fast, I found my ankles secured with old bras to the radiator and the sink. Izzy immobilized me with the same smiling ease a flight attendant brings to their safety spiel. I was waiting for her to point out emergency flotation devices and air masks, but instead she knelt directly over my face. I nearly passed out from a sudden mixture of joy and shame-tinged desire. I could feel the blood streaming into my cock, feel it pulsing with each heartbeat. “What are you doing? Where did you get these?”
“On eBay. Where else? What does it look like I’m doing, pervert?”
It looked like she was putting her hand slowly down the front of the too-tight panties, taking her time, relishing my response. She was going to wake up the rest of the house if she kept talking so loudly. I saw her expression change as her fingers found sensitive tissue. I bucked against the air behind her. I felt the way I had after I got my first piercing, or when they pulled me out of what was left of my first car. Floaty. Unreal. A little out of synch with the outside world. She opened her eyes and stared me down, laughing. Her breasts did amazing things when she laughed. She stood again.
“Breathe, Graham. Inhale. You’ll pass out otherwise.”
From the robe pocket she tugged a piece of fabric that wasn’t actually underwear — a red silk scarf. It, too, had been a regular part of CeeCee’s wardrobe, and it, too, had been the target of my adolescent onanism. Once.
How had she known?
“I can explain!” I sounded like an idiot.
“No you can’t, and you shouldn’t try. This morning’s theme is going to be ‘honesty’. Can you handle that?”
I nodded.
“Speak up, Graham.”
Izzy gave orders with a gentle, certain authority I had never encountered before.
“What? Ummm. . sure. I can handle honesty.”
“Excellent. I knew you could. Raise your head.”
The praise made me glow. Why should I care what this stranger thought? Why would I let her do this to me? Obediently, I raised my head and let her tie the scarf around my eyes, doubled over itself and wrapped twice around my skull. The world went dark. My cock bobbed stiffly and my bladder ached.
Izzy laughed quietly again. “Your reaction is very gratifying, Graham. Are you ready to be honest?”
“Yes.”
“I like honesty, Graham. I’ll reward honesty. Would you like to be rewarded?”
Her voice was close, now. She smelled of lube and lavender.
“Yes, please.”
“Were you watching my body this morning, Graham?”
“Yes.”
Izzy knelt at my waist, the heat of her cunt bright and sudden on my pelvic bone. I bucked reflexively.
“Be still! Were you thinking about touching me?”
“Yes.”
Izzy’s nails stroked the skin just outside of my nipples on either side. I fought to control my movements.
“Good little boy!”
I stilled my reaction and stored away a little piece of anger to use on her later. I let my face show calm and contentment.
“Sorry!” Her apology was instantaneous. “I gather that’s not a good word combination. I’m sorry, Graham. No insult intended.”
I wondered who had trained her. I wondered if she had a weapon. Without any obvious external movements, I tested my bonds. Solid. Tight. With her astride me, I couldn’t even muster leverage to tug at them. Five minutes too late, I realized how completely Izzy had me.
“Really, Graham, I’m sorry.”
Her lips were tender on my nipple, and her crotch pressed harder on my hip. She stayed that way, kissing softly, as my body gradually relaxed. Belatedly, I realized that she was taking much of her own weight on the outside leg. I wasn’t used to any of this, least of all the experience of a stranger’s gentle consideration while utterly powerless on my own bathroom floor. I wanted to cry again.
“It’s OK, honey.”
She kept saying that. It wasn’t. She was wrong.
“When you wanted to touch me, what part of my body did you want to touch?”
“Ah. . everything!”
“Honesty, Graham. Remember?”
“Your ass. Your thighs.” I tensed again.
“Thank you.”
Izzy slid a tiny bit lower and more towards the centre of my body. The change was dramatic. Her weight was an unbearable pressure on my bladder and her rear was an unbearable teasing near-friction against the tip of my cock.
I tried to flex my abs to take her weight, and then to twist away.
“Still!”
“Bitch!”
“Yes, Graham. Your cock is very hard, Graham.”
I was silent. The house creaked.
“May I mark you, Graham?”
“Yes.”
I felt her teeth at my neck, at my nipple. I heard her breath, felt her hot cunt shift on me again. I went way inside to a wordless, hungry place and stayed there. I went way outside to fantasies that nobody should have, and stayed there too. Her bites were cruel. Her tongue teased. I needed to piss. I needed to come. The combination was fucking with my brain in delicious, wrong ways. I needed to scream. I whispered, “Please.”
“Please what, Graham Edward Gryn?”
“Please. . give me more.”
“More questions? Certainly.”
I groaned quietly. She raked her nails along my chest, brushed my balls with her fingertips and left her hand lingering by the underside of my bobbing cock.
“Do you masturbate?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I have lovers.”
“Where?”
“In America.”
Her hand drifted away.
“Chicago, and just outside Chicago. Three women. They know about each other, but don’t know each other.”
“Thank you.” Her hand was back, stroking my cock with a feather touch. “Have you ever been to a prostitute, Graham?”
“Once.”
Her hand paused.
“A few times. Once that was good.”
She chuckled. It wasn’t an unpleasant chuckle. “What made it good, Graham? In detail.”
She squeezed, once, bending low and grazing my chest with her nipples.
“She was beautiful, and funny, and she got really wet. She. . spread and let me watch while she played with herself.”
“Nice.” Izzy’s hands were insistent, varied, attentive.
“She, um she had really pretty tits. Like yours. She told me about her fantasies, and listened to mine. She sucked me long and sloppy, with lots of slobbering and no condom.”
“Did you come in her mouth?”
“No.”
“Did you fuck?”
“Yes.”
“Did you come in her pussy?’’
“No.”
“In her ass?”
“No.”
“In her face?”
“No.”
“Did you come on her pretty tits, Graham?”
“No.”
Her hand slowed, teased. “Tell me.”
“We fucked for a long time. We were in the kitchen at a place I was renting, and it was a Saturday morning. I made us a pot of coffee, and we drank it naked while she sat on my cock. She took two sugars and one cream. She kept her glasses on.”
“You like girls with glasses?”
“Yes!”
I felt her turn around, felt her adjust her knees beside my shoulders. Izzy’s hands were both on me now, slow and steady. Her pussy was over my face. I strained up towards her.
“Did you come, Graham?”
“Yyyes. I did. I came in my hand.”
“Yes?”
“We fucked for a long time, and she let me suck on her titties, and then she fingered her ass while I watched, and she asked me if there was anything else I wanted.”