Sunday Snog #147: Rendezvous

It's almost Halloween, and so I've got a paranormal snog for you today, from my All Hallows Eve tale Rendezvous.

For Rebecca, Halloween has always been special, an opportunity for her to cast off her sensible, ordinary self and assume a new look and a new identity: someone extraordinary, sensual and seductive.

When Halloween night finds her stranded by a breakdown in a seedy motel nearly a hundred miles from her friend's annual party, she's terribly frustrated and disappointed. Then she discovers that her room is haunted by the invisible but unquestionably virile ghost of a rake who seduced local women nearly half a century earlier. Gradually, the ghost unmasks Rebecca's secret desires, fulfilling every one.

By the time midnight tolls, Rebecca has come face to face with more magic than she had ever imagined.

After you've savored my snog, head over to Victoria's for more sexy (and possibly spooky) oral delights.

****

“So eager! You've got to be patient. I'll fuck you too, don't worry. But first I want to play a little.” There was a strange whistling sound, somewhere above me. Chills crawled up my spine.

“What was that?”

“That? Oh, that's my little whip. Just a toy, really.” The air whooshed again, and a line of bright pain stitched up my inner thigh.

 

Caught off guard, I sucked in my breath rather than crying out. The sting of the blow intensified for a moment, then faded. In its wake, my sex grew hot and heavy with blood.

 

I released my gathered breath, just in time for the next stroke. It landed high on my other thigh, a mere inch from my pubis. This time, I screamed. The fire of the lash raged through me. My nipples tightened to aching knots of sensation. My clit throbbed as if it would burst. I thought that I couldn't bear any more, and yet, as the fires banked, I found myself waiting eagerly for the next cut of the invisible lash. I felt a cool hand on my brow. “Are you all right? Should I continue?”

 

I nodded my head to the empty air. The whip swirled again, searing the sensitive outer area of my breast. The next stroke struck fire on the ravaged tip of a nipple. Pain exploded like a sunburst, momentarily blinding me. Heat flowed from the point of contact, melting me into a sloppy puddle of desire.

 

I moaned and closed my eyes, concentrating on the paradoxical sensations racing through me. The whip danced over my flesh, leaving its stinging kisses on my thighs, my breasts, my belly. The effects of the individual strokes began to merge. My entire body sizzled, kindled into extraordinary sensitivity by the fierce bite of lash.

 

My cunt contracted each time the leather hit home, overflowing with the proof that this pain truly was what I craved. I was mortified to realise that what I wanted most was to feel the whip slicing across my tender labia, snapping at my clit. It would take only one or two strokes, I knew, to send me spinning into orgasm.

“Open your eyes.” Tony paused in his exertions. “Look at yourself.”

 

With some difficulty, I raised my head to examine my splayed form. I caught my breath at the sight before me. My breasts and abdomen were criss-crossed with red streaks, as if I’d been grilled on some devilish barbecue. Some of the traces had formed into raised welts of a darker hue. From what I could see, my lower body was similarly scored.

 

I should have been horrified. Instead, all I could think of was that I wanted more.

“You look so beautiful, with my marks decorating your body. My beautiful, well-whipped slut, all pink and white, ready to do anything for me.” Two lightning whip strokes zipped symmetrically along the outsides of my breasts. I screamed.

“That's true, isn't it? You'll do whatever I ask?”

 

Intoxicated with lust, I couldn't speak. It didn't matter; I knew he understood. I wanted his hands, his cock; my cunt was a wet, hungry void dying to be filled. But if he wanted to beat me, I could wait. Every time the leather bit into my flesh, I knew that I was pleasing him.

“Such a sweet whore. I won't make you wait any longer.” The whip clattered, tossed into the corner. The bed creaked as he climbed on, straddling me. I sensed his bulk, even as I stared out at the empty space.

 

There was rasping sound of a zipper coming down, then pressure against my lips. I stuck out my tongue and swirled it over the smooth bulb of flesh that seemed to be positioned above me. Of course, there was nothing there, nothing to see, at least. The situation was bizarre, but incredibly arousing.

“Suck me now. Get me nice and wet.” I opened wide and he thrust his invisible but impressively solid cock down my throat.

 

Lying on my back, I had no control. Fortunately, he was more gentle than he might have been, though I still had to work to keep from choking. I swept my tongue over the silky smooth skin sheathing his erection. I could feel the pulse of his blood in the shaft, even though I knew he had no blood, no heart. It was too strange to grasp. Finally, I forgot the strangeness and simply sucked, savouring the taste and smell and feel of him, as real as any man.

 

I was in some kind of dream state. I could have gone on sucking him forever. Then I felt his fingers, dabbling in my juices, and a fresh pang of desire shook me. I wanted him there, deep inside me, fucking me the way he had promised.