One by one, candles sputter to life on wrought iron stands and sconces along the back wall of the room. I’ve been leaning against the doorframe in the dark for so long it takes my eyes almost a full minute to adjust to the light, and once they do, my already thundering pulse beats just a little bit faster.
Because, even though I can see now, everything is still black. Walls, floor, bed frame and sheets…all black.
I hear the soft sound of a match being blown out. Slowly shifting my gaze, I see her. She’s standing in front of a dressing table. It’s one of those Queen Anne style things with bowed legs and a massive, ornate mirror, the perfect companion to the flamboyant bed.
My gaze flicks from the dresser to the velvet drapes that cover the window. From there, they slide to a wooden chest, then to a wardrobe. I wonder if she knows I’m doing everything I can to avoid looking at her. Every fibre of my being wants me to look. To stare. But I can’t. I’m afraid to. I’m afraid that, if I look at her again, I might not be able to look away.
That probably isn’t her name, but that’s who she reminds me of. Black dress sweeping the floor, long sleeves trailing over the backs of her hands. The dress has a neckline so low it skims her navel, displaying a cleavage a guy could fall into, never to be seen again. Her tits had looked rock hard in the harsh lights of the club. They’d looked fake, but when she’d laughed after she’d caught me gawping, they’d jiggled like they’d been poked.
I had no idea what I thought I was doing, accepting her invitation to spend the night with her. Out of my league was an understatement, I should have said no. But the way she’d licked her lips when she looked at my mouth, and the way one of her long black talons had grazed my jaw while she’d straightened my tie and asked quite seriously if I’d ever been fucked by a wicked witch…I couldn’t have said no if I’d tried.
She’d been straight with me from the start, explaining what she wants from me in no uncertain terms. This is to be her show. In her words, I’m just a chain of orgasms waiting to happen. A prettily packaged cock and a pair of plump lips that’ll look hot sucking on her cunt.
I realise my gaze has strayed to her while my mind played over our meeting. Her toes are perched daintily on the dressing table’s stool, her split skirt parted so that I can see the long line of her leg. Dizziness makes me wobble a bit and my eyes follow her fingers from her thigh to her toes as she inches her stocking down and off her foot.
She looks at me, lowering her bare leg, raising the other foot onto the stool. This time I get a display of inner thigh. Soft, pale and biteable.
Was that a smirk she just gave me? It looked like a smirk, but I can’t decide if it was triggered by amusement or the predatory side of her nature letting slip that it’s very aware it has its prey cornered and helpless.
She takes a breath and I know she’s about to speak. I hold what’s left of my last breath in my lungs in anticipation, fearing whatever it is she has to say as much as I ache to hear it.
“Will you walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly, ’tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.”
Oh God, that voice! Feminine, but with a deep, sensuous tone that could probably turn bones to liquid. She sounds like she’s had a sore throat recently, but I know that isn’t it. Her voice, just like the rest of her, is made to weave spells over men who aren’t smart enough to run from her.
Shit, I know that if I walk into this room, that’s it; I’ve agreed to be her sex toy. She’ll do whatever she wants with me and, what’s worse, she’ll do it with my blessing. If I enter now, I’m hers. My head tells me I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and if I have half the sense I was born with I’ll turn around and get out of here. But my feet? They’ve already taken half a dozen unsteady steps into the room.
With a few slow sways of her hips, she turns to the dressing table. Those long fingers of hers snatch something up then she turns back and sashays toward me. “Do you remember what I told you I’m going to do first?”
I hesitate, momentarily disoriented by the intensity of her black gaze. She’d said so much back at the party, all of it irresistible and terrifying, it was hard to remember the order she’d said it in. But it comes back to me and my guts start to churn. It takes me a few goes to get my words past the lump in my throat, and when they finally break free they come out in a painful sounding scratch.
“You’re going to take my sight.”
“Good boy,” she whispers.
Fuck, she’s going to devour me.
Her nails scratch down my forearm, and she pushes something into my palm. I peer down at it, confused as to why I need a little glass vial. “What…?”
She cocks her head, searching my face, then smiles wickedly. “Did you think I was going to blindfold you? Such a sweet, naïve boy.”
Well, that’s perplexing. If she isn’t going to blindfold me, how will she take my sight? There’s no way I’ll be able to keep my eyes closed once she’s naked and fucking me, that’s too tall an order for anyone.
“What do you mean?”
She taps the back of my hand with a nail. “Your face is far too pretty to be half hidden behind a mask. Go over to the mirror and open the vial.”
Doing what I’m told, I pad through the lush black carpet, opening the vial and using the light of a candle to peer inside. I frown. Contact lenses? She’s given me black contact lenses. I’m no stranger to wearing stuff like this, so with a what-the-hell shrug, I quickly slide them over my irises.
I blink quickly, feeling panic build behind my breastbone.
The contacts she’s given me aren’t just black, they’re blackout. I’m in a room with a complete stranger, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met and am about to have sex with, and can’t see a fucking thing. That’s going to go down as the greatest tragedy of my lifetime.
She takes my hand in hers, tugging me slowly toward the bed. All I can do is be led, then stand still and sightless while she undresses me. Was that scratch intentional? Did she mean to dig her nails in? Can I really feel her breath on my cock or is my imagination going into overdrive? I just don’t fucking know!
Coaxing me onto my back on top of the cool sheets, she mumbles to herself. “Sweet creature, said the spider, you’re witty and you’re wise, how handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!”
Jesus fucking help me! I can’t do this, I can’t give a woman I don’t know this much control over my… “Aah, fuck!”
I might have been imagining her breath on my cock before, but there’s no mistaking her mouth closing around it now. She sucks slowly, deeply, dragging her tongue up the underside, swirling it around the head. I can feel her warm saliva slithering down my balls, her fingers catching it and gently massaging it in.
A minute and a half in and I want to come. I want it so much I can feel it already, spreading through my belly, branching out into my limbs, my fingers and toes, even to the ends of each and every hair on my head. I want to pump her seductive mouth full of hot, creamy cum and listen to her purr in the back of her throat because she loves it.
But I won’t. I wouldn’t dare. My restraint isn’t born of gallantry, it’s born of fear. Fear of breaking an unspoken rule. Though she hasn’t said it out loud, I know I’ll be in trouble if I come before she does. Before she tells me that I can. Disappointing her…disobeying her…that’s the last thing I want to do.
She must know how hard it is for me to hold back because she stops. Her fingers wrap around my balls and she draws them away from my body. After my thighs stop trembling, she lets go, trailing her hair over my belly, across my chest. I can just imagine what that looks like. Raven hair swishing back and forth over my pale skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface and chilling me to the bone.
Now she’s crawling up my body.
Her dress brushes over my skin, tickling me and making me shiver. I can feel the heat coming from between her legs. She’s dripping on me, leaving a wet trail from my groin to my neck. It makes me almost delirious to know that this wetness is all for me.
When damp hair rubs against my chin I inhale deeply, groaning on the exhale, my senses assaulted by the scent of aroused cunt. I want to taste her. I lift my head to do so, but a hand on my forehead slams me back down again. She leaves me hanging for a second, then sits right on my face. No more breathing. No more groaning. Thighs pressed against my ears deny me the pleasure of hearing her erotic moans. I’m smothered in hot flesh, drowning in the sweet fluids that are already trickling down the back of my throat.
Every move of her hips jerks my neck, so she grabs handfuls of my hair to keep my head still. I stick out my tongue, straining it inside of her, fucking her tight entrance. She jerks and I end up with my lips wrapped around her clit, but before I can find a sucking rhythm that works for her she moves again, rubbing herself on my chin, my nose, my mouth, taking my face and making it hers.
This is a new experience for me. I’ve given oral before, and in this position too, but it’s never been like this. And that’s because this is the first time I’ve ever allowed anyone to use me. To climb onto my face and ride it as though she’s paid for the pleasure.
God, I love how being someone’s fuck toy feels!
My hands ball into fists, dragging at the sheets. My heels dig into the mattress and my hips surge as though I’m fucking thin air. Does she know she’s killing me?
I’m in dire need of a breath. Deprivation has my lungs burning, my chest feeling like it’s about to explode. But I don’t care because she’s coming. Her clit is dancing on my nose and her pussy is squeezing – teasing – the tip of my tongue. Oh, to have my cock buried in her, feeling the full might of her orgasm…that’ll be something!
She shuffles back down, straddling my chest. I know my eyes are open wide and it’s maddening not being able to see her. She fingers my bottom lip, still wriggling back down my body. Just as I feel her ass touch my cock, she bends forward and sucks my lip into her mouth. Her teeth graze it, just for a second, and then she bites. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make me hiss.
God, just let her fuck me! Let her hump and grind until I cry for her to stop. I need it. I want it, and I need it, and it has to be now. Tasting her, smelling her, touching her isn’t enough, I have to be inside of her before I lose my mind.
That’s all I say. One word. But it’s a word that speaks volumes, and as soon as it passes my lips I know she has me right where she wants me. That little laugh of hers confirms that she knows it too. I’m nothing more than a desperate, pleading, prettily packaged cock that’s already showing signs of addiction to the wicked witch who crashed a Halloween party in search of a willing victim.
Rocking so that her hungry lips stroke my cock, she whispers one last, terrifying thing. “So she wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly, and set her table ready, to dine upon the fly.”