Five Songs

I've included a suggested playlist that worked for me while imagining these little vignettes, but obviously you can find music that turns you on for total immersion. Just have a good system, or headphones - not a shitty phone speaker lol.

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Five Songs

He led her, blindfolded, into the room.

He had prepared deep musky incense and she succumbed instantly to its powerful caress. She stood there, alone.

The room seemed otherwise empty, then she became more focused and picked up the sound of movement, perhaps the creak of a leather armchair, or the clink of ice in a glass.

Minutes passed. She needed to pee, but was not allowed to leave. Those were her instructions, as soon as she returned from work in the supermarket- no time to change, wash, pee. She must just stand there, blindfolded.

She felt movement, an approach. A man? He stood behind her, sniffed her hair, but no contact. Then he moved in front of her and sniffed round her armpits. He knelt and sniffed at her crotch. Still no contact. She was aware of being stale down there and felt ashamed. But she was not allowed to resist or shrink back.

Suddenly the loud music from an expensive sound system kicked in. She knew the song, Depeche Mode's 'I Feel You.' Through this system it sounded raw and new. The uncomfortable opening screech, the insistent riff. Then the bass pumped and the walls vibrated.

She felt her blouse buttons being undone purposefully, he groped her breasts. His nose pressed into her cleavage while he expertly unfastened the bra. Her bare breasts were his to do with as he wished. Her nipples immediately hardened. He took one, then the other into his mouth and sucked like an infant, drawing her to him with arm hard round her torso. He flicked the buds, sending her to a near frenzy of desire.

His tongue lashed against the hollow of her neck and up round the contour of her chin and finally across her mouth, then back to her breasts where he dwelt.

The song ended on its long fade. His turn was over. She was left alone once more.

The sound of a glass being replaced on a side table.

Radiohead's 'There There' blasted out, almost unbearably loud. Tribal, the mix deliberately, yet beautifully, distorted. Thom's vocals soared.

Then a hand wrapped her throat and squeezed. Not threatening, but nonetheless powerful, could threaten if need be. He tilted her head upwards and kissed her hard on the mouth. She yielded, his brandy tinged tongue probed. His hand reached down over her skirt, searched for her bottom. He grabbed a cheek hard then moved his hand under the skirt, her work tights dry against his palm. He seized the back of her thighs roughly, pummeling them, found between her legs and tore a large rip in the tights, his finger now denting her asshole through her knickers. She flinched. He tightened his grip on her throat. She relented.

'We are accidents, waiting to happen.'

His song was over.

Minutes later, she felt the cold steel against the underside of her breasts as someone slid the safe edge of the cut throat razor across her body. Relieving her of her unbuttoned blouse, he raised her arms above her head and smeared a drop of some ointment into her pits. She felt the ultra sharp razor's edge scrape across one, then the other with expert technique, causing a slight tickle as he depilated her. He licked under her tender arms.

She heard him sharpen and then hone the razor on a leather strop, 'shhck shhck,' until he was satisfied, the edge keen.

As Dusty Springfield's 'Son of a Preacher Man' started up he lifted her skirt and had her hold it aloft while he yanked her tights and knickers off her legs. She had been instructed to allow hair growth for 2 weeks. He rubbed the oil into her pubic mound, occasionally dipping a finger into her wet well. She had an overwhelming urge to pee.

She felt the cut throat at her delta. He worked his way inwards, cutting with the grain, first one side then the other, applying oil liberally on the way. Sometimes he would raise her foot onto a stool to gain access to difficult areas and she knew he would see her dripping; would smell her. All the while she was aware that a flinch could be disastrous. The delicate folds required concentration, he rested the heel of his spare hand against her lips, feeling the ooze of her juices as he wielded the razor, as precise as a surgeon. He protected her raging clitoris with his finger as he tidied up a few stray bristles.

Smooth now, he applied some Aloe Vera, massaging it into the tender flesh, working it into her pubis. It was too much, the piss trickled, and then gushed, down her leg, her lips pulsing beneath his palm as he gently kneaded the oil into her. Was Daddy watching? Would he be furious? Was he even in the room?

The song was over. She stood there now, naked apart from the skirt, and newly shaved, her recent shame pooling at her feet.

A hand coaxed her to bend forward and grip the back of a chair. He spread her feet from behind, and bent her further until her back was almost horizontal. 'Get it On' by T. Rex was his choice.

He lifted her skirt and gave her a hard smack on the ass. Then another on the other cheek, reddening her.

She felt his large cock slide between her legs, but not in her. His hands fondled her breasts and rolled her taut nipples. He knelt behind her and glided the very tip of his tongue against her perineum then slowly, oh so slowly, licked along the length of her bottom between the cheeks, dwelling at her hole to probe. Smoothing her skirt down, he wiggled his tongue into the small of her back, and up her spine, his hands wandering sensually up the sides of her body to her newly shaved armpits, and then reaching round to once more fondle her breasts. His tongue continued licking to the top of her spine and up her neck, as he gently moved her hair to the side.

His cock once again between her legs, he found the rail of her lips and rocked smoothly between them, forward and back, forward and back. She came instantly, it was her favourite. Did he know that? Was this man Daddy? The song lasted 4 minutes or so, and all the while he did no more than that. Fondle, roll, rock, occasionally supporting his cock from underneath so that she felt his constant contact for the full length of his shaft as it rode her lips. Now and then he would take himself in hand and stir the wet tip around her clitoris.

At the very end, over the words 'take me' he turned her to face him and jetted his cum over her stomach, creamy and thick, it clung there while he wiped himself on her skirt.

She heard the living room door open, then the front door. It clicked closed, they had gone. She was alone. Or was she? She was somehow aware of his presence, her ears now attuned to the room in the special silence that happens after loud music stops.

'Walk straight forward towards me,' he commanded.

Unsteadily she followed his voice until she felt her hands in his as he guided her the last few steps. He was seated, she straddled him either side of his legs. She could smell his arousal and guessed correctly that his cock was out and erect.

"You've had quite a night, did you enjoy the playlist?"

She loved his hands on the backs of her thighs.

"Yes sir," she said.

He lowered her down onto his cock, curving into her cunt in an easy movement. She writhed and ground into him, feeling his tip deep inside, his shaft stretching her out. He fumbled underneath and quickly found her asshole, plunging one, then two fingers inside while he fucked her to the sound of Joy Division's 'Heart and Soul.'

He lifted the blindfold and she saw her Daddy, her master, her lover.

"Did I please all the men, sir?"

As he ejaculated into her he smiled.

"Oh darling, there was only one man."