Amanda Visits a Masseuse Ch. 02

Immediately after the ball was placed on her tummy, Amanda moaned and said, in a tremulous voice, "My God, it feels as if that plug were boring into my gut like some hungry beadle, making my bladder, rectum, vagina, and everything else respond by contracting. It's not painful, in fact it's quite exciting, but it's not easy to bear!"

Apparently satisfied that she had produced the desired effect, Yoko said "Now Amanda it's your job to make sure that that ball stays where it is. That will require you to maintain the hollow in your tummy by preventing your abdominal muscles from tightening. I will not distract you until you think that you have mastered that control. When you tell me that you are ready, I will teach you how to achieve a completely passive orgasm, one in which you body is simply a receptacle for the pleasure it is receiving. Because your body is programmed to move in response to intense sexual stimulation, preventing it from doing so will require great discipline and will mean that your climax will be delayed. However, when it comes, I hope that you will agree that it was worth the wait."

Amanda spent several minutes accustoming herself to the presence of the ball on her belly. Compared to Yoko's weight, the ball seemed light, and, as she quickly learned, the less she moved the less the plug bore into her navel. Feeling that she had achieved the requisite control over her muscles and anxious to proceed, she turned to Yoko, smiled, and said "I'm ready for my lesson."

Taking her cue, Yoko went to the opposite end of the table, stopping long enough at the trolley to pick up an object which, under the circumstances, I assumed must be some sort of dildo. She then lowered the panel on which Amanda's legs had been lying, and took up the same position as she had during our first visit. Lowering both hands to Amanda's up-tilted crotch, she began by carefully brushing aside Amanda's pubic hair to expose the already pouting mouth beneath, saying "You know, until I first did this, I never understood why botanical metaphors are used to describe a woman's vulva. However, when the hair is moved aside, the reason becomes obvious. Like a flower, its shape and texture invite penetration into its core, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have in my hand a dildo like the one I gave you the other day, only this one has a handle rather than a stand at one end. When I spread the petals hiding your the entrance to your vagina, I will slowly slide this dildo all the way into you, stopping when I feel it reach your cervix. Then, once it is embedded, I will use it to gently explore the silken walls of your vagina, sometimes stretching them and occasionally pushing its head against your uterus."

Watching Yoko, I could tell that Amanda was more than ready for the invasion and that her waiting vagina swallowed its intruder with ease. Instead, her problem was with the requirement to remain still. Each time that Yoko changed the position of the dildo, I could see the muscles in Amanda's tummy clench under the ball resting on its center, and each time this happened, she let out a little gasp as the plug dug itself deeper into her belly button. The effort required to discipline her body not to react was enormous, only equaled by the pleasure she was experiencing.

Raising her eyes to look me in the face, she whispered "I feel thoroughly impaled, in two ways at once. There is the delicious impalement by the dildo and the less delicious one by the plug, and, strange to say, I can no longer really distinguish between them. At the same time that the dildo makes me desparate for relief, the plug prevents me from achieving relief. It's as if I were an insect pinned to a board while somebody worries its most sensitive antennae. The difference is that, unlike the bug, I am free, but have no

desire, to escape my torment."

Looking at me through Amanda's raised legs, Yoko asked if I would like to participate. When I said that I would but that, under the circumstances, my role was not clear to me, she suggested that I take Amanda's nipples in my fingers and apply just enough pressure to gently mimic the pumping that her breasts had received earlier. Hearing Yoko's suggestion, Amanda cupped her breasts in her hands to mold them into soft mounds available for my attention. Her nipples being already fully erect, it was easy for me to grab them and use them to manipulate the breasts which they crowned. Alternately tugging them until her breasts were sharp cones and lowering them until her breasts mushroomed on her ribcage, I was gratified to at last be playing a role, albeit minor, in

Amanda's experience.

Time passed unrecorded, but, shortly after I began playing with her nipples, it became obvious that Amanda's sensuous torment could not last much longer. Sweat covered her from head to toe, and her breath came in increasingly short gasps. When her climax arrived, it enveloped her whole body at once, sending the bowling bowl flying and wrenching her breasts from my grasp as she abandoned all semblance of discipline and allowed her body to convulse in the way it had been waiting to since Yoko began.

It was not only Amanda's discipline which was forgotten. Yoko, beaming from ear to ear, dropped her usual reserve and ran to Amanda's head, cradled it in her hands, and kissed Amanda's exhausted face. "I told you that your effort would be rewarded, and now you know that I deliver on my promises. No client has ever given me greater satisfaction than you have. Should you ever want to return, you will be most welcome." Then, resuming her normal demeanor, she turned to me, bowed, and headed for the door.

Just as she was leaving, she looked back at Amanda and said "Don't forget, you are to take your belt home with you,"

to which Amanda replied,

"No, I won't forget because I think that I will leave it where it is when I dress. You never can predict what a husband will do in the back seat of a taxicab."