Damien West's Entry
Cold, damp air bit at Sonja's exposed pale flesh, covering it with a flock of ivory goose bumps. Not exactly the heritage suite at Hotel Le St James; she was spread-eagle atop a giant wooden "X", blindfolded and bound hand and foot by double locking steel restraints.
She grinned. It had been seven years since she last wore a Stasi uniform, back when 'The Wall' came down, five years since she immigrated to Montreal and 13 months since a rainy night in Gay Village when a drunk in a speeding McLaren took her sight and separated her husband from the lower half of his body. It was high praise to still be treated so cautiously.
By smell, she knew no one was in the room, but she was certainly being watched. Inadvertently she'd been putting on a show: writhing naked on the table, nipples painfully erected back slightly arched to keep her tailbone above a strip of cold metal.
Her head snapped toward the door. The lock's tumblers click would be imperceptible to most, but the darkness that was her incessant companion cast a magnifying glass over her restricted view of the world, amplifying every taste, scent, sound and sensation. With a mournful groan, the heavy door opened, ushering in a warm breeze that caressed her right side while leaving the left to shiver in exaggerated cold.
The bespattering tap of high healed boots on wet concrete ushered in a visitor who brought alluring, exotic fragrance that teased her nostrils. Sonja breathed deep, savoring natural aromas untainted by industrial stench. "Ummmm, I love your perfume. What's it called?" she asked in English thick with East German roots now colored with hints of French Canadian.
"Ruh Gulab," responded a delicate, feminine voice in an unfamiliar, lyrical accent. Kind of Aussie, kind of Dutch, kind of Southern American, yet none of the above. "It's the most precious of Indian ittar's," she purred, orbiting Sonja in a slow, sauntering prowl. "It took over a kilo of rose petals to make what I'm wearing now? It was discovered by the wife of Emperor Jahangir; a fragrance fit for a queen. Are you a queen Sonja?"
"My husband always treated me like one," she whispered.
The woman leaned in. "Well then, we must tend to our Queen." Sonja shivered; the warmth of her captor's whisper swirled a seductive dance within her ear. She could sense the woman's lips but a finger's thickness from her flesh and found herself wishing they would dip lower and devour her neck.
The opening of a glass-stoppered vial preceded an intense rush of the intoxicating scent. The moistened glass applicator traved a delicate line across Sonja's neck and down between her ample breasts, eliciting another shiver as cold flesh reacted to the tickle of even colder glass.
"I am so sorry. Is that cold?" the woman asked with feigned concern.
Sonja nodded, biting her lip. "Freezing actually, but god it smells nice."
"Aanskakelthe hitte jou dier," her visitor commented in a playful tone raised to address another. "As doen ek warm binne bevrore dogter?"
An intercom crackled to life, high and to Sonja's left. "Be creative my dear," a digitally distorted baritone quipped in response.
Just as the flock of goose bumps had begun to fly south, they came back like a swarm of bees as a long feather joined the game, stroking up her cheek, along her ear, down her throat and along her cleavage eliciting yet another shiver, this one unrelated to the quickly vanishing cold.
Sonja swallowed and instinctively closed her blind eyes in a futile attempt to dissuade the building arousal. The feather continued its exploration of her chest, spiraling up each firm, sensitive mound to tease the thick and, for an entirely different reason, still erect nipple.
"Hmmmm, perhaps you're still chilled to the bone on the inside," her visitor turned tormentor mused.
Sonja's eyes flew open as a slick, latex clad finger slipped between the folds of her womanhood, the gloved palm grinding against her mound as the finger teased the rapidly moistening opening. Damn, Sonja thought, it's not difficult to find which buttons to push when they're all lit up. She tried to clamp her thighs shut, but the task was impossible against restraints that could hold a dozen men.
"Ah, maybe there is a spark after all," the teaser cooed. The feather continued down Sonja's belly, dallying at the recently pierced navel. "The trick is to coax a raging fire from but an ember". A second finger joined the dance, circling the triangle of dark, gossamer fuzz before settling in to stroke her rebelliously stiffening clit. The first finger slipped down to her opening, brazenly pushing past disobediently blossoming petals and plunging in to the third knuckle to curl upward and stroke the washboard of her g-spot.
Sonja's body shuddered and asked 'why are you fighting this?'
The finger stroking her swollen love-button was replaced with a warm and skillful tongue that swirled through her puffy sweetness as the slick digit buried within her was joined by another.
The eager tongue lapped nectar from her dewy folds as the two fingers continued their snaking dance within her, fluttering about her cervix. A shiver of delight escaped Sonja's womb, caressing every muscle with the relaxing warmth whiskey in one's belly on a cold night.
Just as Sonja surrendered, fingers and tongue withdrew, eliciting a long desperate, frustrated groan that was interrupted by a gasp a heartbeat later. The plum sized head of a glass phallus spread her entrance and popped inside her. It felt like the marble statue of St. Michael at the Musée des Beaux-Arts had come to life, intent on fucking her. With a will of their own, hips thrust against the intruder, hungry to pull the slick shaft deeper; aching for long absent, intimate attention.
Like a blooming rose, her passage yielded, allowing the glass phallus to slip deep. It glided in her copious juices, energetically assaulting her cunt as the woman pistoned the toy through her delicate passage with speed and vigor.
Ember no more, flames of passion roared to an inferno in Sonja's belly. She thrust her mound desperately at the invader in a frantic quest for satisfaction. A finger laid atop the shaft joined the assault on her womanhood, spreading Sonja further as a silky mouth bounded by warm, full lips devoured her petite, cock-like nub.
Nerves twitched and a rising roar filled her ears, the unmistakable herald of a mind-searing, body wrenching orgasm. "Mmm... unhhh... oh, oh, oommyyggod!" Sonja screamed, shocked by the energy of her own voice. Tears cascaded down her cheeks. Muscles shook erratically, uncontrollably. Then all at once, the universe was reborn before her sightless eyes. All that she was at that instant lay between her legs, it drove every thought she could muster, delivered every sensation she could perceive and wrapped her in the warm embrace of release.
"That will do Liselle," the demon-like voice commanded over the speaker. "It appears you discovered how warm a frozen girl after all."
Mouth, finger and toy withdrew in prompt obedience. The woman circled to Sonja's head and whispered in her now breathless accent, "I know I'm not your 'type', but you're definitely mine. I have many more 'implements' in my tool box, and I'd love to show you that this was simply foreplay". Moist, full lips brushed against Sonja's for an instant... then departed, leaving Sonja a hint of her own passion induced 'ittar'.
Treading through the water and onto dry concrete, the footsteps faded into a hall. Sonja smiled, satiated by another for the first time in over a year.
The intercom crackled, digital camouflage now gone. "Bravo!"
"Not bad for a prisoner, eh?" came her prideful taunt.
"Indeed. What an incredible performance. I knew my little spy was a gifted actress, but Jesus . . ."
She smiled. "Who said I was acting?"
The restraints clicked, releasing their exhausted captive.
"So you liked my game?" he asked. "I sense we've found a way to scratch that itch of yours. Same time next month?" he asked.
Sonja stretched before slumping back on the table and laughing. "Sure love, it's a date."
"I know a gentleman who's been dying to meet you." he added.
She raised an eyebrow, then grinned. "I'm yours to do with whatever you please."
"I didn't know how I would react, seeing another pleasure you, but it was incredible and I want more. I wish you could see my smile."
"So come down here and let me feel it."
The voice directed itself to another, "Etienne, wheel me down to my wife, and have Lisselle bring her some clothes."
"Something warm yet dressy please," Sonja called out, "it's snowing but I'm famished and would love for you to take me to Chateu Saint Lawrence. Oh, and please ask Liselle to join us. She offered something, and I'd like to collect."
Damien West