A Game for Two

They were heard clearly through the door. The music, which failed to mask their actions, played loudly. A sound track fitting for the occasion. The vocals spoke to life what had been laid bare. The door shook free from its frame granting visual access to what had been suspected. It could not have been more apparent, more clear, or more confirmed. The inches wide portal to the room grew as the music's bass and the beds rocking steadily and rhythmically, swayed it further ajar. Her eyes and jaw widened in kind. Her heart stomped against her chest as it heaved in an attempt at catching a breath. Her eye lids refused to shut, fearing they'd hinder the capture every detail. She wanted to map each portion of that moment to memory. She needed to remember.

The light, red, bathing all in its hue. The music, whispered by a dove who embraced their flight into the sun. A voice that kissed every ear with taunts and warnings. Photos of a seemingly blissful union adorned the walls, shadowed by light. They contrasted starkly with what was going down. Clothing discarded in a trail across the floor, from the door to the bed. The bed, squeaking and dancing away from its place against the wall. Sheets, thrown, twirled, knotted, and stained by the couple atop them.

Nails dug into delicate fabrics, piercing, shredding, uncontrollably tearing holes as a hand held on to remain grounded from the hights of an existential struggle. Toes curled and pointed toward the ceiling. Muscles clenched and released. Legs spread miles apart, restrained by strong and determined hands. She knew these hands and their strength. Legs pinned to thousands of threads dressing a large foam square which had certainly remembered presence of that pair following that night.

Sweat cascaded down a rippling back. Between tightly constricted cheeks. Shimmering as it traveled hastily beneath two dangling orbs, mixing with other fluids that forcefully scattered about like celebratory glitter in the crimson light.

Her eyes fixated, intentionally tortured by previous travels which made their arrival more impactful when they reached the targeted destination. Her eyes focused. As if biologically engineered to highlight and increase the definition in points of interest. Her heart drummed and fluttered, her knees weakened, saliva gathered behind her bottom lip, threatening to give her away. Her eyes strained, promising to never give in to the physiological need to blink. Tears broke through, staining her face, giving her relief.

Angry, veiny, thick, saturated, aggressive, probing, digging, boaring, excavating, generating sight, sound, and smell. "How could this be, and why am I here?", She asked herself.

Her eyes focused further. A glow, which when revealed shown brighter than the sun. A glow, which when fully occupied by a familiar thickness, expanded beyond reach. A sound, rose above the peaks of the music. A sound that was a melody all its own. A stabbing ballad which punctured her heart as she watched on. Squishing and smacking music transforming to substances, further staining the silk threads with their remnants. Sounds of rabid beast, grunts and screeches, moans and screams echod in her mind. And without a safety net, the pair culminated in unison. Connected from the inside out, until what had been forced in, flopped and oozed out, in copious amounts.

Poor silk...

Her eyes closed as she recalled what he said over the phone moments before she arrived home from work. Words that made her leave the office so abruptly.

Blackness...

A few short days later...

His eyes opened, surveying the neatly written letter. The penmanship was all too familiar. The sent rising from the note equally conjured memories. From the note to the building number, back to the note. He had arrived without a moment to spare. Access to the location was granted to his presence. He was a welcomed guest, if the proprietor of the establishment guiding him to his destination without a second look or thought, was anything to go by. He was expected and seemingly warmly regarded. The humbly mute escort parted ways with a smile and a soft bow.

His heart raced. Surely that rendezvous was her doing. It was a special day and she was the desperate romantic with a heart the size of the moon.

His heart raced as his eyes scanned the letter for the hundredth time. It was a place unexpected, different. Confusion still lingered from his decent below the lobby which was pristine with crystal chandeliers, carpeted floors, and fancy gold trim lining curtains and other surfaces. From the short elevator ride beneath, possibly hundreds of rooms, presumably, just as, if not more, inviting than the lobby. Rooms more suited for the occasion or the conclusion the letter and its fragrance helped him jump to. But, he went along with it. She was a peculiar one. It was what he loved most about her.

He arrived. His heart beat uncontrollably as he grasped the cold metal nob of a door whose pad lock had been removed and discarded to the concrete surface beneath. His access was granted and welcomed. The note matched the door's label, in the literal sense. Not in the way he had imagined.

Boiler Room.

Warm, nearly hot, comforting yet teetering on discomfort. The room opened up wide to ages old machinery, tanks, and pipes lining walls cloaked by darkness. Steam periodically spewed from places unseen. A small fog filled the air but his breathing was not hindered. Unable to rely on sight alone, his other senses were given focus as he carefully made his way toward a warm red light in the distance. The light spilled out into the main area. Its glow highlighting a particular sign which read, "WARNING: HOT PIPES. DO NOT TOUCH." He felt as though it was a sign, or contain deeper meaning. He stood beneath it, reading it over and over. He marveled at its size. He surmised that whoever created it did not want anyone to disregard its message.

As quickly as he was drawn to the massive sign with its message, his attention had been diverted elsewhere. Something amongst the myriad of metallic sounds within that clouded space, called out to him. It was soft and distant. Familiar and foreign. Like a moth to a flame, compelled by forces that he possessed no control over, he journeyed deeper.

The deeper he ventured the more pronounced the sound became. The more he immersed himself within the sound the more its obtuse form took shape. A voice was heard, a woman's voice. Her voice. But, not just that. Without words she spoke. There were hints of a struggle. A great struggle. One born not of opposition but of strive. Moans and grunts, all not created by her. She was not alone.

The atmosphere sketched images within his mind. Rough drafts of what would soon be clearly painted by broad strokes of reds in multitudes of hues. Was this by her design? Was this for him? He pondered as a doorway came into view. Sounds rushed out into the hall from beyond its threshold, echoing through the narrow space, adding weight to the dense fog which cluttered his mind.

He stepped with purpose toward the doorway. Hoping to not see what he had dreamt. Hoping to not witness what had been, then, stabbing mercilessly at his heart, weakening his body.

Brightly bathed in crimson blackness, centered within a wide space lined by railings, warning signs, and more machinery partially swallowed by areas the light failed to reach. Dangling, swaying by way of steel uniformly linked and clasped to restraints which tightly circled flesh. Supported by other restraints and steel links which cradled the complete bareness of a woman who was further supported by strong limbs, not belonging to her.

As if he tripped over one of the railings or as if gravity had suddenly increased, his body was thrown to the hard concrete surface beneath him. The thud gained attention of the room. And as quickly as he ended up planting on his back, the attention had slipped back to what had been taking place. What THEY were doing.

Perched on his elbows, from a low angle mere feet away, he witnessed it all. The sounds conformed to the images. His mind raced as his heart seemingly stopped. Confusion gave way to reality. Reality gave way to pain and anger as wounds opened within his mind each time hers was filled.

Time heals all...

Intently, he gawked at the painful sights before him. Tens of hands, caressing, grasping, kneading. Fingers probing, pinching, and jabbing. Two sets of toes curled. Hair swaying freely from a head held tightly between two massive palms that strained to sustain a proper position. A throat bulging from invasion. A throat thoroughly occupied, thoroughly squeezed its contents while its contents made it hard to breathe due to its presence and accompanying equipment resting firmly over nostrils. Only the swaying of the chains, propelled motions generated by rhythmic thrust from the other end offered her reprieve.

A strong hand gripped both sides of her waistline aiding in the unification of bare flesh. The collision created sounds as loud as the woman struggles to inhale oxygen and the object in her throat. Moans and grunts filled the room, ricocheting off every wall. Moisture, thick and heavy, sprayed, splashed, and, poured from the center of the room. A strong, animalistic musk joined the stale, metallic sent a mist in the air.

Intoxicating.

He was frozen in place. After stumbling to his feet. After bracing himself on one of the many railings. He struggled to stay upright. His head lightened after refocusing. He couldn't loose consciousness. He had to see it all. He froze.

He had to witness the systematic devouring that woman's virtues. The clockwise rotation of a dozen masked figures whose purpose in life, at that time, was to ruin and please. Two after the other, head and tail. Then one at a time as a train formed for a last visit to one of two very frequented locations. Wrist to ankles. Restrained and linked in fours, providing greater stability and deeper access.

She watched as they all took their turns. Looking between her breast, beyond her compressed abdomen, within the mound crested by a glistening bit of flesh. Beneath the mound. Unseen but felt. Unseen but enjoyed. Her eyes were glazed over as tears poured from the corners. She couldn't believe there existed such intense pleasure. She watched him as he watched her, lovingly. She mouthed words to him in rapid succession, synchronized with the force of those ravaging her body and mind.

"I! LOVE! YOU!" She cried out...

He was simultaneously frozen, confused, mystified, angry and turned on.

Lost and found...

He watched intently as they made one last go at her request. One last visit to a dark place far beneath the glistening bit of flesh. Each brought with them their last shred of determination and aggressive passion. Each trying to make her regret her decision. Each, grinding the thickly treaded soles of their boots across the course cement to quickly achieve proper traction. Each sinking into a confined hole which had been thoroughly burrowed to accommodate their presence but kept its strength and tautness out of a desire to feel their occupation. Out of a desire to ensure they could feel her hunger for them.

He watched shamelessly as further restraint was given to her ankles and wrist. As a slow decent morphed to rapid motions. Forth and back like an angry tide crashing on a withering shoreline. Forth and back, tornado'ing, recking, ruining, pleasing.

She could not watch the watcher any longer. She could not watch the waves. She could only allow gravity to yank her head back as the waves forced out of her what had previously been muffled by their presence.

Screams drowned out all other sounds within that space and within his mind as he watched, jealously at a creation born not of his action. A creation not his own. Sounds never before heard, piercing through him, slicing his heart to shreds. And still, he watched.

Time seemed to slow as sweat and other fluids splashed, sprayed and sparkled in the rosy light. Thick enough to taste it. Her mouth, ever agape, drool dangling, hair with flailing strands that periodically masked the otherworldly look on her face and alien stare in her eyes. Her body rippled from the impacts. Her breast made circular gyrations, opposing each other yet uniting at the center of her chest to briefly kiss. The restraints dug further into her wrist as she grasped her ankles and helped the edged metal break her skin. The tops of her ample thighs absorbed the force from each collision as if they were designed by nature to do just that.

He watched intently, knowingly, that the whole time she had been coming. He knew not of what had been laid bare before him but he knew her bodies palpitations.

Each one. One mask after the other, in a uniformed manner. Paired with grunts of utter defeat, drowned, doused, sprayed, and coated that taut tunnel of hers with every drop of their being. With every fiber of their strength. They offered one last thunderous stroke and several hilted hunches. Every last drop was emptied into her loosely splayed back pocket. She fought shamelessly to keep every bit of it stewing within her until the last mask made their deposit.

He watched intently, her relief as the last thick hose, drained of its essence, fell sloppily from her over used hole. She watched the watcher who watched intently.

Her head flung back again. And again screams exited her mouth as her back arched, chest rose, and breast slumped to each side. Her pelvic walls contracted, triggering convulsions which wrapped her entire body in pleasure. Her hole puckered, threatening to open, promising to show.

Expected yet shocking nonetheless, a torrent of fluid sprayed from her crevice in a steady stream reached out feet from her body before slowing to a pour of white tented by amber, pooling on the ground below. The pour was followed by small yet violent spurts forced out by her spasming from multiple earth shattering orgasms.

He couldn't breathe. He didn't know why. His vision blurred. He didn't know why. A massive damp feeling demanded his attention. His pants, at the crotch, completely saturated. He turned back to her. he could see her smile as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes met his. His eyes closed.

Blackness.

Within that blackness he recalled the last bit of the letter she wrote which brought him there. The letter scented by honey and lemon... Bitter sweet.

Happy Anniversary! Your loving and "THOUGHTFUL" wife...