Clara span round and around. Naked men sucked one another to
satisfaction as they watched Clara spin around and around on her point.
They watched as she span but she could not watch them, for she was
locked tightly alone in a world of darkness, a cover on her eyes
forbidding access to the dazzling colour; forbidding access to the
succulent pleasures of the male sex she so greedily desired to feast her
eyes upon. She couldn't have them, she could only spin around on her
axis and dance.
And so Clara danced, and as she did, although denied vision, her sense
of enveloping sound and music increased. She heard the rough whine of an
old needle scratching a record as the light tenor voice of Pavarotti
singing an aria from Verdi drifted pleasantly across the room. She heard
the slow incessant drip-drip-drip of water from a tap, picking out
every painful note of its ceaseless rhythmic torture. She heard the pop
of a bottle uncorking and the slow dank pouring of wine in a glass, and
she smelt the spiced cherry grape of the delicious vintage Cabernet
she'd been expressly forbidden to taste. She heard the light, gentle
tap-tappety-tap of her own bare feet upon the ground as she danced
around graciously in time to the music, her feet picking out and
accentuating the beat, as light as a feather in the wind. She heard the
soft sounds of sex from every corner of the room, from far away and
close beside her, and she could feel fucking warmly embrace her. She
heard the sound of bodies pressed tightly against one another, the slow
salivating suck of cock slipping deep down into a hot willing mouth. She
heard moans of pleasure sing out, drowning out the melodic cries of
Pavarotti. She heard the shrill shriek of male orgasmic lust and she
heard the light slap of balls, and the swishing jet-spray of cum as
thick members thrust hard in and then emerged softly from their adoring
pleasures.
And as she heard all of this, Clara danced ever on like the wind.
Clara did not dance voluntarily. She span around and around because they
wanted her, desired her, made her. She danced for them and they watched
keenly, lusting her feverishly, aroused by the music she sang as she
span. The wild music of her silken hair as it flung exuberantly about
her shoulders, the tiny music of her breasts as they thrust firmly
forwards in time to the drip of the water. The swaying music of her hips
as they jiggled sensually from side to side, and the supple music of
her legs as she span them faster and faster so that she might be free.
But she could not dance free while the hands grabbed her body and held
her, and twisted her, and forced her down. She could not be free as they
came upon her, big, hard and filled with intent. Could not be free as
they gave her themselves to their grip, to tease, to fondle and jerk.
Could not be free as she was surrounded, overwhelmed, dizzy and
confused. They desired her and they had her, and she wanted them back.
She could not see as they slipped down her throat, first hard, then
sticky, then soft. She could not count as they came at her insatiably
and left her satisfied. She could not see her desire, just hear it, feel
it and taste it.
Clara danced on her point until she stumbled and fell. She danced until
they grabbed her and took her and held her down. They grabbed her arms
and they bound them, took her legs and then tied them, they took her
clothes and they ripped them. The Versace dress she wore was violently
stripped away, leaving her naked and exposed.
"I'm frightened," she confessed as they held her down, tore her clothes,
stripped her naked and bare. She couldn't see who, she couldn't tell
how and she couldn't know what manner of pleasure or punishment awaited
her. Clara was alone, scared, vulnerable and defenceless. Clara's cunt
dripped wet.
As they strapped her up, her body ached and trembled. Bound tightly as
she was, she was no longer free to dance; yet Clara danced inside as the
tannic red wine splashed across her naked breasts, hands crawled slowly
across her skin and probing fingers buried themselves deep inside of
her most private holes. The softness of touch told her that these
fingers were feminine, and as a delicate nipple flashed gently across
her mouth, begging her to lick, her mind and body flushed hot with new
sensations. The world seemed strange and she danced; sensations were
soft and she danced; sounds sang pleasant and she flew, soaring upwards
and ever higher as the groping fingers of a girl – or two, or three –
penetrated her tight, clenched ass; she soared higher still as a full
pair of breasts rubbed erotically across hers; she soared up to the sun
as the rough tongue of a girl lightly licked up the scented juice that
gushed like a torrent from her pussy.
"Let me go, please let me go," she begged, almost screamed. "I want to be free." She heard the stern reply of "Never."
"Take off the blindfold, untie me. PLEASE. I want to see, I want to
touch." She implored her captors and they replied without mercy,
"Never."
Clara moaned aloud in pain and in pleasure. Clara screamed a happy,
delirious scream and then she saw the entire world from above as a
bright white light streaked across her senses; and then there were
rainbow colours. She saw an intense streak of electric light and she
felt it shock through her throat, constrict her back, pain her wrists
and then sear through her brain, wrenching her entire body rigid. She
saw her life in 16.7 million colours and she saw her death cloaked all
in black. She saw Clara shrouded in dark blood red floating lightly
around the room as a feather flies in the breeze. Looking down from
above, Clara could see herself clearly, surrounded by lust and
debauchery, smeared all over in nudity and wine, her face flushed tannic
red, her mouth silently twisted, grinning with crazed notes of
pleasure; her arms and legs pulling furiously on her bonds as her groin
and chest thrust desperately upwards again and again; and Clara begged
them again and again and again:
And the bonds on her wrists tightened, the straps on her ankles
tightened, her constricted chest tightened and blood flowed freely from
the stress of her bonds; her tentative grip on life and the world
collapsed. She felt faint, overwhelmed with intense swirls of dizziness
dancing around her skull. She descended into a world of pain and fear,
and as the fear touched her heart she finally came. Her orgasm released
her mind as the fingers, the hands, the breasts and the cocks danced
across her helpless body, round and around; tongues thirstily licked the
sticky wine that dripped from her chest, as two, three, four fingers
penetrated her lusting holes, and the exploding cum drenched her body,
squirting, smearing, and joyfully shooting its slimy sex across her tiny
helpless figure. "Set me free, I must dance."
She wrenched, contorted and collapsed exhausted. "Yes, I want this," she
managed before tiredly closing her eyes and finally embracing her dark
prison. "I really do. This is all I'll ever want. Thank you."
And they nodded, satisfied, then released her body and un-strapped her
bonds. She lay back and slept silently to the soothing sounds of a
quietly dripping tap and the gentle clunking of the needle as the record
played out its last operatic melody. And Clara was content. And Clara
was free.