On a Slippery Slope Ch. 01

Remaining naked for more than an hour, I check and recheck my body in the mirror, wondering what is wrong with my brain.

I have one moment of clarity early in the afternoon. While I am examining myself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, I give myself a lecture.

"Carla Jameson, you are playing a foolish, dangerous game. Your safety is at risk. Maybe even your life. Ignore the note and stay home tonight."

The figure in the mirror gives me a pensive look and then responds. "I know it's foolish and I know it's dangerous, and I'm going to do it anyway."

I spite of the mirror lady's response, I take time to gather the cards, notes, and story copies I have received in the mail. Attaching them to a note of explanation, I stuff them into a large manila envelope, seal the flap, and write 'For Deputy Tim Jameson' on the front. If I fail to show up for work tomorrow, my boss will check on me. When I don't answer the door, she will track down Mr. Johnson and set everything in motion. I prop the envelope up on my dresser.

I begin to worry about the command to dress appropriately. Since the probable outcome tonight is that I will be blindfolded, tied up, and fucked, underwear seems superfluous. But I don't know if I will be required to undress or if my stalker will remove my clothing. I finally choose a dress that will make my body accessible. I have a sexy little number that buttons in front from neck to hemline. It falls only to mid-thigh and displays an enticing amount of cleavage.

Shoes are next on my list. I probably own fifty pair, but I know exactly which ones I'll wear. They have three-inch heels with small straps that crisscross the toe. A single strap circles the heel. I think they showcase my legs perfectly.

I am still naked and I want to masturbate. I have been aroused for hours and I still have hours to wait. It is only four o'clock. But that won't do. Last night was one thing, but today I don't want to take the edge off my desire for sex.

I have been lubricating off and on all day. If this keeps up, I might be dry as a bone by tonight. That worries me so I drink lots of water, trying to stay hydrated, hoping it will help.

I take a shower, carefully shaving my legs and underarms to avoid nicks. I touch up the little landing strip above my pussy. It is all that remains of my pubic hair.

I don't expect anal sex. None occurs in my stories but a butt plug is mentioned in one of them. I don't understand its purpose, but I know where it goes so I take a precautionary enema and then shower for the second time.

I had only yogurt and dry toast at noon but I brush my teeth for the fifth time anyway. I can't possibly get any cleaner.

I examine my body once again in the mirror, still searching for blemishes. I know there aren't any but I check anyway. I am a nervous wreck.

I look at the clock for the thousandth time. Thank God! Finally, it's six-fifteen and time to get dressed. Changing my mind about underwear for some reason, I put on a black lacy bra that hooks in the front and a pair of matching panties. Ten buttons later, my dress is in place. I slip on the shoes and examine myself one final time in the mirror. The butterflies in my stomach are now in full flight, but I approve of what I see. I know I am a pretty woman. My lustrous curly shoulder-length blonde hair is complemented nicely by the colors in my dress. I am certain my stalker will approve.

With a final glance in the mirror, I add a little lip gloss and a touch of mascara. I dab a little perfume in all the right places and send a shot of matching spray up under my dress between my thighs. Deliberately leaving my purse behind in the apartment, I lock the door behind me and put a spare key on the molding above the doorway.

****

My butterflies get worse as I near the house. When it finally comes into view, I almost turn around and go back home. Only the uncontrollable curiosity about what is going to happen tonight keeps me from doing so.

I arrive at the door and follow instructions, stopping in the entryway. Glancing about, I spot a camera and a speaker mounted high on the wall.

"Good evening Carla," says a disembodied voice, the same one I heard on the telephone. "I'm glad you chose to be here tonight. Before we start, there are a few things you need to understand. First of all, you are here by your own free will. You are not a prisoner. You may leave anytime you wish. Nothing will happen to you tonight that you don't want to happen. You must choose a safe word. If at any time you want to stop, say the word clearly and everything will stop immediately."

I know a little about safe words from the stories on the website. I've already given this some thought, so I have a word in mind.

"Avast," I say with a giggle. My father is an avid sailor and I've heard him use the word a time or two. I know that it means 'stop.'

"Avast it is," says The Voice with a chuckle of his own that makes me pleased with my own cleverness. "Do you have any questions?"

"No," I lie. I only have about a thousand of them.

"Any requirements?"

"Just one," I reply, "use a condom."

"Agreed. Did you masturbate last night?"

"No," I lie again.

"Good. Now enter the room to your right and close the door behind you."

The room is very plain. Highly polished hardwood floors are sharply contrasted by stark white walls. A king-sized bed is in the center of the room. There is no headboard or footboard. The mattress is covered only by a fitted sheet. Both sheet and mattress have been modified to allow two ends of a wide belt to emerge from slits a foot or so apart in the middle of the bed. There are no pillows.

Two slings are suspended from an eyebolt in the ceiling; a spreader bar about three feet long holds them separated. A pair of handcuffs is attached to chains that lead somewhere underneath the bed. All the restraints are nicely padded with a fleece-like material. There is no other furniture in the room.

The walls are unadorned except for a cat 'o nine tails with silken ropes that hangs from a hook near the bed and a sleeping mask on a hook just below that.

Each of the four walls supports a small pencil spotlight that illuminates the bed. I can see a camera and a speaker mounted in each corner of the room high up near the ceiling. Exposed cabling is bundled together near the floor and runs under the door, giving the installations a temporary flavor. My stalker has gone to considerable effort on my behalf. Many of the elements in the first story are present.

Just the sight of the bed and its restraints causes me to go weak in the knees and I start lubricating heavily. I am staring at the place where I will soon be constrained and fucked. It is almost more than I can bear. I hope I don't start dripping on the shiny floors.

"Remove your clothing please," says The Voice.

My heart feels like it is going to leap out of my chest as I perch on the side of the bed and slowly remove my heels. Crossing the room, I place them on the floor near one of the walls. I don't want to trip over them if I am forced to move around the room blindfolded. I decide to make a show of disrobing. This isn't just his game, it is mine too.

I take my time with the ten little cloth-covered buttons, releasing them one by one and pulling my dress open incrementally as I do so. Finally, I slip the dress off my shoulders, hold it off to one side, and let it float to the floor.

Unhooking my bra, I free my breasts and toss it on top of my dress. I am pleased to note that they haven't started to sag since this afternoon. I take a long time easing my panties down over my legs, and then step out of them slowly. I leave them where they are. There is no graceful way to retrieve them.

The Voice remains silent. I hope he is pleased with what he sees. Deliberately not looking at the cameras, I stroll over to the bed, intent on examining my restraints more closely. The slings are obviously for my legs. Each is fitted with a clasp that will tighten the slings once my calves rest inside. The purpose of the spreader bar is readily apparent.

The belt in the center of the bed is clearly designed to hold my midsection tightly down against the mattress. Velcro straps will keep everything in place.

Each handcuff has a plastic cylinder near where my wrists will be. I don't understand their purpose but they don't look ominous. The cuffs will hold my arms out to the side rather than above my head, for which I am grateful. I will have some freedom of hand movement but not enough to interfere with my stalker's plans.

I walk over to the cat 'o nine tails and the mask. The silken ropes have knots tied in the end. They are soft to the touch but will hurt if the implement is swung with any force. Avast, I reminded myself, is the safe word. I remove the mask from its hook and walk slowly over to the bed, hoping we will get started soon.

"It is time to begin," says The Voice, apparently reading my mind. "Lie down in the center of the bed."

I obey.

"Place your legs in the slings and fasten the belt across your stomach. Make sure the belt is tight."

I give some thought to cheating a bit with the belt to give myself a little wiggle room, so to speak, but then discard the idea. I am here to be constrained so I fasten the belt tightly as instructed.

"Now put on the mask."

I do as directed, making certain that I cannot see anything. I sense that if I get a glimpse of my stalker this will all end. Perhaps badly. That I do not want.

Moments later the door opens and I sense, rather than hear, his presence in the room. I suspect he is naked. I wonder if he already has an erection. I know he won't speak because he no longer has the ability to disguise his voice. My heart resumes its frantic beat, my breathing accelerates, and I start lubricating again.

He grasps one of my wrists, and then the other, attaching the cuffs. Instinctively I test them. They are tight but they don't hurt or cut off my circulation. I relax my arms.

I feel him adjust the tightness of the slings around my legs and then raise them a little higher to keep the spreader bar out of his way when he decides to fuck me. I hope he does it soon. I'm already about to go out of my mind.

Suddenly I feel the silken ropes of the cat 'o nine tails caress my body; first my face, then my breasts, and then the inside of my thighs. A delicious tingle bubbles up from deep inside me and races across my skin. He continues this for several minutes, spending most of that time between my legs. I can't move much, but I can rock my pelvis up slightly to tell him I want more. I begin to whimper in frustration. He ignores my plea. I hope he doesn't strike me with the cat. I remember the safe word.

Finally he stops and I feel his weight on the bed. Thank God he's going to fuck me now. I've never been so ready in my life. I wonder if he has a large cock. But I'll have to wait to find out because I feel his head between my thighs, and that's okay with me. I love oral sex and I know I'll cum quickly if he tongues my clit.

He doesn't. He tongues everything else instead, making me cry out sharply as his tongue runs up and down my slit and then enters my pussy. He has an arm wrapped around one of my thighs and he uses his other hand to hold the lips of my pussy open. For several minutes his tongue darts all over but carefully avoids direct contact with my clit. It doesn't matter. I cum in a rush, bucking against the belt that has me immobilized. I cry out continuously as orgasmic spasms wrack my body.

He gives me no time to rest. Slipping his fingers into my pussy, he sucks my clitoris into his mouth and begins to massage it directly with his tongue. It drives me wild. I am instantly on my way to another crushing orgasm. As I near the top of my short climb, he eases a pussy-lubricated finger into my ass. No one has ever done that to me before at exactly the right moment. I go over the edge with a piercing shriek that I can hear echoing off the bare walls of the room.

If he doesn't stop, I will probably faint. Mercifully, he pauses, allowing me to come down slowly. I lie there gasping for breath as the aftershocks of my orgasm course through my body. I can't believe what's happening to me. He hasn't even fucked me yet. That still lies in my future.

His weight shifts in the bed. I can feel his body heat next to my side and smell his expensive aftershave. Something by Calvin Klein maybe? It briefly flashes through my mind that the aftershave might be his undoing someday.

My stalker turns his attention to my breasts and sucks an alert nipple into his mouth. I moan with pleasure. I have sensitive breasts and they have always been an important part of my sexual response.

While my attention is diverted he slips two of his fingers back inside my pussy. Once again I rock my hips up as far as I can, trying to signal him to continue. I feel him curl his fingers up behind my pubic mound, searching for my G-spot. Under normal circumstances I would rotate my hips to help him find his mark. But I can't move so he's on his own. He finds it soon enough and is encouraged by my loud cry as he rakes his fingertips across the magic spot.

Within seconds I'm on my way. Between the stimulation to my G-spot and the attention he is paying to my breasts, my arousal rockets skyward. I hold off as long as I can, enjoying the sensation created by my approaching orgasm.

I am filling the small room with moans, yelps, and small high-pitched wails as he pushes me upwards and over the top. I shudder violently against my restraints, my body reacting perfectly to his efforts.

I have lost track of time. I lay there in a near-coma, my stalker finally allowing me to rest.

A little while later the bed moves again in response to shifting weight. I know he is positioning himself between my thighs. He is going to fuck me now. This is what I came here for. Everything that happened earlier was wonderful, but it was just foreplay as far as I am concerned.

I feel him moving the head of his cock, searching for the opening to my pussy. He finds it and enters me slowly. He is very large and I am very pleased.

He lowers his body closer to mine and slips his forearms under my shoulders to curl his fingers over my collar bones. And then he begins to fuck me using long slow strokes. It is the first real cock I've had inside me in months and it feels so good. There is none of the selfish urgency my ex-boyfriend usually displayed. I know my stalker is going to take his time.

I don't know how long he fucks me. I do know that he uses every means at his disposal to make it pleasurable for us both. Often changing the speed and power of his thrusts, he teases me with short quick strokes and long slow deep ones. He changes the angle of his thrusts constantly, slowly pushing me toward what I know is going to be the most spectacular orgasm I've ever experienced. I have never cum solely in response to vaginal stimulation, but I know it is going to happen this time. He is relentlessly driving me upward. I begin to understand that I am being properly fucked for the first time in my life.

Eventually he settles into a strong steady cadence, pounding his cock into me with shocking force. My sensitive nipples brush against his chest as they dance to the tempo he has established.

My orgasm seems to rise from the soles of my feet and then explodes deep inside my pussy. I am aware of a woman screaming nearby as my muscles clamp rhythmically around the shaft of his still thrusting cock. Is that me? Moments later he lets out a guttural cry and I feel his pulsing contractions.

He holds his body off mine with what must be great effort to avoid crushing me, but I want his weight on me. I want to hold him in my arms. The bondage is over and I need to feel his skin with my hands. It doesn't happen.

Surprising me, he presses his lips to mine. Kissing did not appear in the story so it was not part of my fantasy. He senses my hesitancy and pulls back. I regret my reaction, but luckily he tries once more. This time I respond hungrily, darting my hot little tongue into his mouth. The kiss lasts a long time, both of us enjoying the intimacy. I want the kiss to last forever.

It is not to be. He withdraws his cock and takes up his earlier position alongside me. I believe he is studying my body. I drift off into a light sleep. Sometime later, he leaves the bed and loosens the slings that are holding my legs in the air. I hear the door open and then shut.

I need to be released. I don't know where he is or what his intentions are. Just as I begin to feel a rising panic, I hear two loud clicks and my handcuffs spring open. Now I understand the purpose of the little plastic cylinders. I am now in the same state I was when he first entered the room. I pull the mask from my face and unstrap the belt at my waist. Pulling my legs free of the slings, I roll to the side of the bed. I know I don't have the strength to stand, so I lie still for a few minutes.

Finally I push myself to my feet near the side of the bed. I sway back and forth a little, slowly regaining my balance. I receive no instructions from The Voice. When I am certain I can walk, I cross the room and open the door, not caring that I am still naked and no longer blindfolded.

I start down the hallway in search of my stalker. I search everywhere. The room across the hall is empty. I find a small kitchen with a dinette that holds a microphone and a piece of electronic equipment that is probably the device he uses to disguise his voice. A split screen video display shows the output of the four cameras in the bondage room. A strange looking console sits beside it with small levers and knobs. I don't know what it does. The only other item in the kitchen is a small waste basket next to the table which contains an empty Coke can and a crumpled paper towel. The two remaining rooms in the back of the house are locked.

There is no cum oozing down the inside of my thighs, so I believe my stalker used a condom. I find the bathroom and sit on the throne like I usually do after sex. Within seconds I can confirm that he honored my requirement. I am grateful.

I return to the bondage room and get dressed slowly, still a little wobbly from everything that has happened to me. Taking a deep breath, I leave the little house and walk unsteadily back to my apartment. When I get inside, I am astonished to see my clock telling me that only an hour and a half has elapsed since I entered my stalker's house.

I try to mix a drink but my hands are shaking too much. It takes me three tries to finally assemble an acceptable martini. I sip it slowly, enjoying the way it calms me down. Suddenly famished, I make a tuna salad sandwich and wolf it down. I second martini relaxes me further. I'll go to bed in a little while.

I use the time to reflect on what happened to me tonight. I loved it. Everything exceeded my highest expectations. I wanted to be constrained and fucked. I got all that and more.

My stalker has awakened something primal in me. The genie is out of the bottle. I want more of him and what he has to offer. As I drag myself to bed, I resolve to keep this thing alive and to find out who he is. The last thing I see before I drift off to sleep is the envelope on my dresser. I will shred its contents tomorrow, knowing I no longer have any need for evidence.

****

To be continued...

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