A Night at the Nutcracker Suite

I'd forgotten the reference and frowned.

"Your bucket list story," she reminded me. Her lips slid around the ripe fruit, and then she popped it between her molars with a wink. "I can't wait until after the show."

~~~

I'd already seen Wicked three times, so -- as much fun as the trials of Elphaba and Galinda were the fourth time around -- my mind spent more time conjuring images of roast beef and cherry tomatoes than it did on Oz. By the time the show was over and we'd wound our way through the crowd and out the door, the rain came down in buckets -- sideways. In the few seconds it took us to get from the covered awning to the cab, she was half-way to soaked despite the umbrella. I was drenched. It was good that the Adolphus was only five minutes away. It was even better that I'd checked in in advance.

We entered the lobby hand-in-hand, all but sprinting, with her in the lead. As we neared the elevator, she snatched the key card from my hand, glanced at it, and punched the call button. When the doors parted to an empty box, she dragged me in and punched the number four.

While rubbing her arms, she looked me up and down. "This place better have plenty of hot water and a sauna. A fireplace would be great." The way her eyes had settled on my crotch made me think back to some of her pictures, and a few of our chats. Our room had both the Jacuzzi and the fireplace. For the price of admission, I thought it damned well better have the hot water. In any case, I prayed she wasn't looking for a cozy fireside chat. When the elevator dinged, I stepped aside and let the doors split apart.

Once they were open, she took a quick look up the hall. Seeing no one, she deftly unzipped her bodice's zipper and took off at a brisk trot toward our room. By the time we made the fifty-feet or so, she'd shrugged completely out of her top and let her bare, granite-tipped breasts bounce in open invitation. Laughing at my wide-eyed reaction to her daring show, she swiped the card and burst through the door the moment I opened it. After pausing just long enough to get her bearings, she tossed her purse onto the foot of the bed and moved toward the cherrywood bathroom door.

"Get out of those wet clothes and meet me in the shower." Seconds later, the door closed behind her.

I couldn't get out of my clothes fast enough. I tossed them into something of a heap across the back of the nearest leather-bound chair and slung my underwear off my toe toward a corner. When I opened the bathroom door, I saw that the Jacuzzi was empty. The glass shower door, however, was already fogged with steam. Shelby was silhouetted behind it, her hands moving languorously up her breasts' lower curves. When she heard the door close behind me, she smashed the sudsy mounds against the glass, caving her nipples back into her areola as they flattened against the clear door. I watched them slide for a few seconds, letting my cock grow stiff before going in after them.

Once inside, I couldn't help but gape. It had been almost a decade since the Forbidden Pleasures e-zine had gone tits up, which was the last time I'd seen a living naked woman besides my girlfriend. And, besides my girlfriend, it had been far longer since I'd been in the shower with one. I suddenly felt like a teenager again, amazed at the incredible view in front of me, full of nerves I'd though numbed by a decade of peddling BDSM on the side.

Her laugh mingled with the sound of the shower as she grabbed my hands. "How cute."

Her breasts were still soapy, her nipples hard rocks that she pressed into my palms. I wasn't certain whether to squeeze or pinch or soap them some more. I opted for the third. "What's cute?"

"The look in your eyes." She put her hands over mine and squeezed. "Is the famous Brett Davidson acting like a teenager over a pair of soapy tits?"

Watching the water run in rivulets around them, I squeezed harder. "Well, the rest of you has a lot to do with it, too."

Her hands left mine and moved to my upper arms. "I'm flattered, but I'm already clean. Time to get you soaped up."

She turned me around until the warm water splashed down my back, and then she tapped my feet apart with her toes. After she snapped the handheld shower head from its silver holder, she grabbed the soap and lowered herself to her knees in front of me. A second later, the slippery bar lifted my balls. A thrill of excitement rushed through me. I felt my cock swell.

"First we clean 'em..."

The sound of the water against the ceramic tiles told me she'd adjusted the flow to a tighter spray, but it wasn't until the needle-fine jet hit my scrotum that I realized what she'd done with the heat. I gasped in pain as the burning liquid jetted hard against me, scalding my skin and beating the testicles cupped in her hand. I could have stopped her, but it was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew the hotel wouldn't let the water get dangerously hot, or at least I tried to tell myself that.

"It's not quite the boiling pan you'd envisioned, but it kills two birds with one stone." She commented while she sanitized my balls with a wicked mixture of soap, blistering water and fingernails. She kept the spray off my cock, choosing to stroke my throbbing hard shaft with soap rather than subject it to the same cruel scalding.

She didn't take long, but by the time she was done, I was panting hard. Her hand on my cock had me just moments from coming, while at the same time it was all I could do not to pull my burning balls from her grasp. When the spray fell from my crotch, I relaxed. Then she showed me the razor.

"I forgot to bring shaving cream, so soap and water will have to do." The wicked glint in her eyes as she brought the burning spray back up to my balls told me she enjoyed every second of pain she caused me. Though I never saw her do it, I was suddenly certain she'd somehow turned the temperature up even more.

I tried to roll away, but she just giggled and followed my balls with the spray. She played that game for a bit, but finally grabbed me, tugging my balls hard and bringing me under control while she brought the razor against them. I wasn't certain what excited me the most, the feel of her fingers on me, the pain, the helplessness, or the uncertainty of what she may have planned.

With the blade now sharp against my skin, I couldn't move unless I was willing to risk being slashed. She moved the scalding water around just enough to keep me from screaming out loud and slowly shaved my scrotum bare. By the time she finally finished, I'd thrown my head back, gasping out a mantra of Oh, Gods while thinking my balls were literally being boiled.

While I caught my breath and felt the sting just start to subside, she pushed the glass door open. Her voice was mischievous as she gently shoved me out then tossed me a towel. "Close enough to a pot of boiling water?"

I checked to make sure nothing was blistered. "Definitely, close enough," I croaked, not quite recovered. My balls were beet red, along with the area around them, but they only felt parboiled.

When I looked up, she laughed. Let's take your mind off those poor babies for a minute." She walked toward me, her jiggling breasts in the lead. I dropped my towel on top of hers and stood my ground, watching until her nipples collapsed into her breasts and the heavy mounds crushed against me. She grabbed my shoulders and pushed me backward toward the open door. I back-pedaled a step. She pushed me harder, aiming me from the bathroom toward the bed. I wasn't certain how much of the twinkle in her eyes was wickedness and how much was sadistic desire.

The cooler air from the living area teased my scalded scrotum until it retracted and pulled tight around my balls. Her nipples reacted the same way, pulling into pebbled, thick, ruby-red buds that looked like raspberries. Her areolas drew into tight, hard mazes of ridges around them, thick and dark on her jiggling tits. It was all I could do not to attack them.

When the backs of my legs bumped the bed, she shoved me hard. I fell back onto the floral bedspread with a bounce.

"Lay back and spread your arms and legs."

They were the last words she said before shoving a towel under my ass and reaching for her purse.

Not surprised when she pulled out the rope, I stretched into an "X' across the mattress. Conversation wasn't something either of us seemed much interested in, so I just watched, excited, my cock twitching as she tied me up. There was no doubt she'd done this before, often enough that she'd become the expert she claimed -- much more so than I had been in my day.

She had me securely tied, spread-eagle and completely unable to escape, in just a couple of minutes. I mostly just watched her naked body as she worked, the way her muscles played in her thighs, her breasts gentle swaying, and her bottom barely jiggling. I thought about resisting a bit so she'd have to fight me, to make the swaying turn into more of a bounce, but I was too anxious for whatever was coming to bother.

When she finished tying the last knot around my left wrist, she stood. Her eyes were less mischief and more sadist than before. They found my balls. Her wide smile seemed evil. "Just one more thing."

A minute or so later, she'd stuffed my mouth with a washrag and strapped it in with tape. I'd never been gagged before. At first it was hard to swallow and, for a bit, I almost panicked. After scooping a glass of ice from the wet bar's ice machine, she watched, toying absently with one of her nipples until I got used to the feel of cloth in my mouth. Then she crawled across the bed until she was kneeling between my legs. My hard cock swelled even harder when the frigid ice touched my balls.

I closed my eyes, relishing the burning cold as she slowly chilled them. I felt water trickle down my scrotum's bottom curve. It tickled my skin as it dripped lower. It wasn't until my sack had pulled into a hard, cold ball of wrinkles and stung with cool numbness that she finally seemed satisfied. She popped the remaining ice into her mouth, set the glass on the floor, and bent down between my legs.

With a wicked smile, she probed my balls with her fingernails. "No safeword. Now, it's all about me"

The part of me that had any concern for what she'd just said was hushed by my throbbing cock. Regardless of the potential for something crazy, testosterone and rabid desire made me absurdly confident that my high pain tolerance would see me through anything she did.

Her warm breath was a wash of pleasure that lasted only as long as it took for her teeth to touch me. I'd expected her to suck and nibble, warm me up slowly. Instead, she trapped a thick fold of cold, tight, skin over my right testicle. Then she bit, slowly adding to the pressure. It wasn't long before the pain became wonderfully intense. While biting still harder, she leisurely stroked my cock. The pain went beyond intense. I held my breath and tensed up. When it got even worse, I groaned, arched my back and started gasping. The feeling wasn't just in my sack any longer. It shot back through me, up my spine and down my legs. When I tried to pull away, she growled, gnashed her teeth together, and yanked. It had taken only that long for her to show me how lacking my tolerance really was.

I couldn't help but cry out, which was when her open mouth pressed into me. Her lips smashed a testicle. My scrotum bulged between them. I actually heard her teeth snap when they closed on my skin. Before my startled, pain-driven cry had faded, she bit me again. Another sharp pain rushed back through me. It was just as severe as I expected and much more brutal than my fantasies had allowed. I would have screamed for her to stop, but we both had known she wouldn't. It was why I didn't argue about the gag.

I tried to pull my knees up to protect myself, but the rope held my legs fast. Her teeth ground into my sack, crushing it -- maybe even cutting. The pain overrode the pleasure. My erection wilted in he hand. Then, just like that, I was free from her cruel torture. Panting in relief, I tried to relax.

Her laugh echoed through the room. "Oh, we're just getting started."

I thought I saw traces of blood on her lips just before they hugged my limp shaft. Her mouth was warm, her tongue soft. Her fingernails stroked my balls, not overly hard, but lightly -- as if her nails were the good cops in a good-cop/bad-cop scenario. There was no time at all before I felt the blood throbbing through my hard penis again.

I expected her to stop stroking me, but she didn't, at least not until my rolling hips, groans and desperate breathing let her know I was close to coming. That's when her hand squeezed my cock and her lips found the right side of my scrotum again. Holding my penis in a steely grip, she sucked my sack deep into her mouth. For a second, her lips and tongue soothed the lingering pain from before, and then she let me feel her molars close on my testicle. The dull pain swelled until my gut began to hurt. When she felt my body get stiff, she let my ball pop from between her teeth. The hard points snapped into my skin and grated them together. If it hadn't been for the gag, I'm certain someone would have heard my scream.

Agony washed through me. Some of the steel-toothed clamps I used on myself bit almost as cruelly, but I always kept them in check. She didn't. I bucked, raised up as best as I could, yanking on the ropes. She just held on, following my sliding hips, treating my sack like a mouthful of meat. My mind screamed red, RED, but I'd passed on that option when I let her gag me. Even so, I tried to get the message across with my eyes and my desperate groans. She either didn't get it, or she didn't care.

Betting on the latter, I fell back into the bed, pressed my shoulders in the pillows, trying not to scream again. It wasn't until I actually started seeing stars that she sucked my limp penis and started massaging my ravaged scrotum with her fingertips. Though the pain remained, the pleasure she gave me drove it back. The ebbing, dull reminder of her wicked teeth mangling my skin became the perfect complement to her tongue and lips on my cock. I found myself glad I'd been unable to stop her.

It took longer this time, but she still made it seem impossibly easy to make me hard. Once my shaft was throbbing again, she brought me back to the brink of coming with just as much ease. When it was obvious I was close, she stopped again and laughed. "Oh, you aren't allowed to come yet."

But, instead of going back to work, she rubbed her breasts languorously and stretched, watching me watch her as she did. Smiling at my cock's eager bouncing, she stood and swayed back to the bar.

After filling a glass of ice with straight Jim Beam, she stabbed a straw into the drink and sat back beside me. At first I thought it was cute that she drank her bourbon through a straw. When she capped the straw's open end with her fingertip and lifted it from the glass, I realized drinking through it had never been the idea.

"Mouths are so dirty," she said as she hovered the dripping straw toward my crotch. "This should be as good at killing germs as alcohol." The first trickle hit my skin. A half-second later the sting set in. The malicious gleam lit her eyes as she dribbled the burning liquid over my sack until it had drawn back again into a tight, stinging, ball.

"And it's so much more fun."

With a wicked giggle, she bent over and drew a long, wonderful lick up the left side of my sack, ending it with a wicked nip. Holding my skin in her teeth, she looked up my bare belly and met my eyes with hers. They gleamed cruelly. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She bit even harder and slowly pulled back, watching my face. Panting through the pain, I looked down at my stretching skin. Held by a half inch of screaming flesh in her glimmering, pearly-white teeth, it looked just as well-bitten and abused as it felt. Her eyes again met mine, gleaming as she let my skin scrape from between her teeth.

After lapping and sucking my balls until the bourbon was long gone and I was rolling in pleasure again, she launched back into me. The first bite caught my left testicle, squeezing it cruelly. When it eventually popped from between her teeth, I tried to double up in pain, but the rope held me fast.

She pumped my cock hard, barely managing to keep it erect. The points of her back teeth crushed my skin, and another feral yank broke more flesh. Another cry muffled around my gag, growing suddenly shrill when she trapped my other testicle.

Seemingly voracious now, she didn't bothered choosing one side over the other. When she wasn't including my balls in her attack, her lips and face crushed them, rolling and shoving them out of the way so she could fill her teeth with my scrotum. Reading me like the proverbial book, she paused only when she sensed I might be passing out. Even then, she barely gave me time to recuperate before she dived back in for more brutally sadistic fun. By then I'd lost all sense of time, and I was well past wondering whose fantasy she was really living out -- though there was still something of mine in the game, it was definitely hers.

While she didn't quite pop either of my balls like the cherry tomatoes, the roast beef metaphor felt much more real. The collateral dull pain ebbing back into my gut from my testicles was only a backdrop to the constant, sharp agony of her biting my skin. Yet, through it all, I felt the heat slowly build and the tell-tale tingle start to swallow my cock. As much as that alone was evidence of her skill, the fact that I wasn't certain I wanted it to end spoke even more of her talent. She, however, had decided it was time.

Her thumb slid up the underside of my cock, pressing expertly, quickly, from side to side in the "V" at its head. I moaned and bucked, half urging her to finish me off, half wanting the experience to go on. When her mouth sucked my balls and sack deep, and her teeth scraped me again, the building tingle blossomed into the inevitable explosion. It was the most intense, incredible, orgasm I'd ever known. The fact that I'd only now noticed what she was doing with her free hand -- how she had buried it between her legs as she worked her pussy as hard as she worked my cock -- made it the perfect ending to my fantasy.

Then I felt her molars trap my left ball, crushing deliberately, maliciously. Unable to stop rolling, my wad shot in hard, long, hot spurts into her wavy brown hair. While still milking me, she clenched her teeth. A wave of agony just as intense as the orgasm consumed me. She bit harder still, and the agony became something much more. She dropped my cock and slapped her hand up to a breast. Her fingers first dimpled then buried into the soft mound, leaving brilliant red scratches as they closed on its tip. Her nipple twisted and buckled between her fingernails, and her ravenous mouth moved right, slurping in my other ball.

As my dick finished going limp, her feral growl somehow made its way to my ears through my desperate moans. Ignoring my writhing, she kept at herself with her hands, frantically fucking her pussy and tearing at her tits while biting my balls between ragged breaths.

Through the all-consuming pain, I heard her groan. Despite the torment, a fading part of me wanted to watch her come, to watch her claw at her pussy and rip at her gorgeous breasts as she enjoyed herself at my expense. But my ears began to ring and my vision started to go white. With her next ecstatic moan, she came, losing what little control she'd kept. With a testicle trapped between her teeth, she twisted her head and yanked. It was more than my battered body could stand. I cried out into the gag and let myself go, only then admitting it had never been my fantasy she'd planned to fulfill.