The night was pitch black as Carol's Mercedes 450SL pulled up to her house. She got out, shut the door, and stood still, letting the cool night breeze play with her slinky pants like she did earlier that afternoon. A chorus of crickets was the only sound besides the wind sighing in the big iron wood trees.
She was tired, and terribly horny. And her man was not going to be there tonight. She recalled her vision, of standing under the trees and being caressed to an orgasm by only the wind and the clothes she wore. Then a new version came into focus, of her tied to one of the trees. Not up against the tree, but standing with her hands bound together and pulled up over her head, the feeling from the qiana unnaturally strong, ravishing her with sensuous caresses. Then it shifted again. She was still dressed in her new outfit, but her arms were tied behind her back, and a rope was tied around her waist, then down between the cheeks of her ass and up in front, running up to a thin, springy tree branch. The wind blowing in the tree made the rope tug against her crotch, producing a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure.
She blinked and the image floated away in the wind. Her cunt felt just as if the rope was there, having been rubbed constantly for the last six hours by her tight satin g-string. And her nipples were so tender and sore from the scratchy lace that she had almost pulled off her blouse on the way up the hill.
Here in the chilly night air the nylon jersey pants gave no warmth at all. In fact, they felt icy cold against her skin. Shiny blue ice. Her body wanted nothing more than to bolt to the house and get these clothes off.
But she stayed there, standing in the dark. The car was making little clicking noises as it cooled, blending with the endless chatter of the crickets. The lights of Honolulu spread out before her, far below, exciting in their portent yet so distant that she felt quite detached from it all, almost like being on a separate island. An island in the sky. Peaceful, but sometimes, as now, lonely.
She thought of Steve, how excited he had looked when he saw her, and his reactions to her recital of the day's events at the store. She was pretty sure that she now knew all of his buttons, and loved to push them. Perhaps it was cruel to do it in a situation where he was powerless to act on the arousal they kindled.
The wind gusted, and her pants fluttered around her legs, cold and sensual. A shiver ran up her spine, pulling the beads on her g-string tighter against her clit and asshole, making her cunt spasm.
She was glad that the session she had set up with Teddi had gone so well. She wished that she could have watched, but had chosen instead to leave them alone. Maybe next time. Teddi hadn't said much, except that it had been outrageously good, and that Steve had enjoyed himself. Steve hadn't said a word, as she had expected.
The thought of him tickling Teddi made her very horny. She did not enjoy being tickled, but his infatuation with this adjunct to sex had kindled a new interest in it for her, and she found herself wanting to watch, or even to do it to somebody. And she thought about how much he must have enjoyed himself. Yes, she really should arrange a threesome.
By now she was hot, through and through. She wanted relief, and set off toward the house in search of it.
After a long period of wearing one of her crotch teasers she usually preferred to just masturbate the good old-fashioned way. She often used a lubricant at such times, like petroleum jelly or KY jelly, which provided a superb level of stimulation of her clit. The constant tightness on her lips made them very tender, so that fondling herself there often hurt enough to block some of her pleasure. It also left her rather dry. The jelly eliminated the need to dip inside and any problem with wetness.
Ever since her time in Bangkok her masturbation sessions tended to include a certain amount of self torture. Not necessarily pain, although for her pain was as much a part of the enjoyment of sex as hot chili peppers were a part the experience of eating Southeast Asian cooking. She liked to prolong sex, to withhold orgasm, to build up to it, then force herself to stop and wait, then start in again. She liked it best when she was delirious near the end, desperate to come, her clit screaming in sweet agony. The film of lubricant on her fingertip gave her perfect control over how long it would last and how far she would go. With the proper preparation, which really began when she wore her arousing underwear, once she started to come she could stay there for a very long time, occasionally over an hour.
But tonight, as she stood on the porch unlocking her front door, the thought of just using her finger did not appeal to her. There was no good way to spank herself, but there was a trick she had tried a few times that was almost as good, and she decided to give it another try.
Once inside she went straight to her bedroom, stripped naked, and spread a big beach towel over her bed. She placed a red table candle on the bedside table, the kind with spiraled grooves running around the outside, then fetched the spreader bar from her closet. She climbed up and sat in the middle of the bed and strapped her ankles to the spreader bar, then adjusted it as wide as she could. She laid back, picked up the candle, lit it, and started to drop little splotches of hot wax on her tummy. She didn't do this very often, but found that it extended her sexual arousal much the same way as being spanked did. The best part was, she could do it herself.
She moaned as the hot wax stung her tender skin. Her legs pulled against the spreader bar, reinforcing the feeling that someone else was doing this to her. She moved the candle so that the wax dripped on her breasts. This hurt even more. There was a long pause between each drip, which allowed the sensation to course through her body like the stroke of a giant gong.
Now her cunt was wet and throbbing. She lifted her legs, stuck the base of the candle deep inside her cunt, then grabbed the spreader bar with both hands. It felt wonderful to have the candle inside her, such a relief from hours of torment from the beads on her tight satin g-string. She began to suck it with her cunt, flexing the muscles of her anus and lower abdomen, making the candle move around in a little circle. Her cunt started to spasm, pulling the end down under the knob of her uterus. The ribbed surface felt very good rubbing inside her.
A shape pain shot from the mouth of her cunt. The first drop of wax had made its way down the candle stick. She screamed, and held on tightly to the spreader bar. Another drip, and her cunt seethed with convulsions. Her hips were trembling, out of control, her legs straining against the spreader bar. The wild gyrations were producing an almost steady stream of hot wax, which began to flow down her pussy and over her asshole.
She no longer had to think about fucking the candle, it was all happening automatically. The hot wax made her jerk convulsively, and this sent more hot wax streaming down from the candle. Her pussy had a life of its own, sucking on the candle as if to take it all inside.
She arched her back, thrusting her hips up a bit, to tip the candle forward. A trickle of hot wax ran over her clit, and she went crazy. Again, and more, and finally she came, thrashing around on the bed as if she were possessed. Somehow she managed to pluck the candle out and extinguish the flame before setting the bed on fire.
She lay still for a few minutes. For most people this was the time to bask in the rosy warm afterglow of good sex, but for Carol the glow of sexual release was blended with the gradual fading of pain. She began to pick the wax from her skin, collecting it in the towel.
Then she got up, her thirst not yet quenched. Now she wanted nothing more than lots of fucking inside her. For this she had a special chair, which she brought in from the spare bedroom. It was a wooden rocking chair that she had modified herself. The design was really quite simple, but not something you would be likely to see in Popular Mechanics.
There was a hole drilled in the seat, and a smooth, polished wooden rod an inch and a half in diameter poked up through the hole. The end of the rod was smoothly tapered, and just at the point where the rod went through the hole in the seat a piece stuck out and up a bit, like a short branch. Underneath, the rod extended down through a crosspiece attached to the legs. A bungee cord, the kind used to secure books to a bicycle luggage rack, was attached to the rod just below the seat. The other end of the bungee cord was attached to the lower crosspiece. When the rocking chair sat on the floor the bottom end of the rod also touched the floor, and as the chair rocked up and down the rod moved up and down.
Carol went to her closet and pulled out one of her favorite qiana gowns. The fabric was yellow, creamy smooth, and flowed like water over her body. She had not yet found nylon jersey this good in the fabric stores, and only one manufacturer used it. She brought in a lot from this line, and it always blew out the door. It was in such demand that women often left their names and phone numbers so that they could be called when a new shipment arrived.
She slipped it on, eagerly anticipating the cool, silky touch of it on her naked skin. Her body was so sensitive now that it felt even better than it usually did. She sat on the chair, guiding the smooth wooden rod into her cunt, then leaned back and rocked, like an old grandma.
The sensation was pure bliss. When she rocked forward the rod poked up, pushing deep into her cunt, the little finger reaching up and rubbing her clit. When she leaned back the bungee cord pulled the rod down, almost out. The cool nylon flowed over her body, especially her legs, enveloping her in delicate, sensual pleasure. It was as if the dress was carrying the pleasure from her cunt to every part of her body.
She lost herself in reverie, thinking about this and that, until she found a thought that interested her. It turned out to be a memory of a high school girl who had recently bought a gown from her, very much like the one she now wore. Although young, seventeen at most, the girl had seemed dark and sultry, as if she knew much of sex and men, and knew how to get what she wanted.
Carol had been attracted to her immediately. Most girls her age were bashful, and giggled a lot with their friends when they tried on her clothes. This girl had been alone, and distant, almost haughty. She had tried on a few things, picked out the sexiest dress in the store, and paid for it with a credit card. Odd, but Carol sensed something of herself in that girl.
Carol closed her eyes and imagined the girl wearing that dress to a party. The boys were going crazy, whispering among themselves, making passes at her, touching her, teasing her about how sexy she looked. The girl was completely naked under the dress, and was fascinated by how good it felt. Finally she picked out one of the boys and ended up alone with him, outside in a secluded garden. They kissed, and he started to squeeze her breasts, hard, the way young men so often do. She asked him to take it easy, to use a lighter touch. Then he used a very gentle caress, and it tickled her. She loved it, and didn't ask him to stop. In fact, she begged him to keep doing it, all over, and not to stop.
Carol kept rocking, letting the pleasure build. She imagined the young man tickling the girl out in the garden, just the way Steve always talked about, and gradually she took the place of the girl. He was tickling her, and without stopping he was fucking her. Gently, slowly, and it felt so good.
Before she met Steve she never fantasized about tickling sex. Her experience in Bangkok had completely turned her off to it. Now she remembered that night in the compound, looking in the window and seeing that young maid being tickled by an old man. Her time with Steve had given her a new outlook, and now she viewed that memory from a new perspective. She realized how unfortunate it was that this aspect of sensuality had escaped her all these years, and vowed to pursue it further.
She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. A new scene came into focus. Carol and the girl, alone in her office.
There was an odd piece of furniture in the middle of the room, something like a leather chair, but just the back, without a seat. The girl was wearing the gown she had bought that day. She was standing, but bent over the strange apparatus, her arms tied behind her back. A firm, leather covered extension stuck out about a foot from the back, near the top. It ended in a crescent shape that fit tightly against the girl's pelvis, extending out and under her, pushing the dress between her legs. Sturdy leather straps across the small of her back and lower thighs pulled her tightly against the little arm. More straps ran around her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. The top of her dress was pulled down to expose her breasts, and where the ropes passed over the top of her breasts it made them bulge out a bit. Another rope ran from these down to the base, keeping her bent over the odd device.
Carol saw herself change from her regular clothes to something more exotic, right in front of her helpless victim so she would see what Carol put on. It was a tight, black leather corset. Little slits in each cup let her nipples poke through, pinching them painfully hard. A narrow leather strap ran between her legs, pulling up tightly, making it dig deeply into her cunt. Attached to this strap were two dildos, one in her cunt and one up her ass. Sheer black stockings held by garters attached to the corset and six inch spiked heel pumps completed her ensemble.
She picked up a bamboo back scratcher to use as a switch and started to spank the girl. Her ass looked great covered so tightly in the thin, shiny nylon. The switch made a loud smack each time it landed on her firm, round ass. She knew that the dress would take some of the edge off of the blows, allowing her to keep at it longer.
The girl started to scream, begging her to stop. Her hips started to jerk and sway, as if trying to avoid the blows.
Carol's body was awash in pain and pleasure. The dildo in her cunt had an electric motor that slowly rotated a bent metal shaft inside the rubber case, making it squirm around. This in turn made the one her ass move around, sending out waves of pleasure from her anus.
The sight of her struggling victim gave her tremendous pleasure. The girl started to get a strange look on her face, the result of the little arm rubbing against her cunt. The straps held her firmly against it, but her movements caused by the spanking were making it dig in and massage her most sensitive parts.
The scene shifted again. Now there was another evil looking device, positioned behind the girl. It was a large wheel with four stiff leather paddles placed so that as the wheel turned the paddles spanked her ass. The wheel was driven by an electric motor, through a set of pulleys.
She was holding a wire with a switch at the end that controlled the motor. She flicked the switch, and the wheel started to spin.
'SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK.'
The girl bucked and heaved, but her futile attempts to avoid the stinging blows only caused the little arm to stimulate her more.
She switched it off, then on, experimenting with how much her victim could stand. The girl screamed, but there was passion in her voice. She tried leaving it on longer, and finally just left it on. She put down the control and went over to stand beside her, then reached out and started pinching her lovely nipples.
Carol's goal was to just keep at it, until both she and the girl had come many times. It was a slow process, but in time they both began to come, hitting a plateau of continuous orgasm. To Carol it felt like a series of waves, coming close together, rising and falling in a continuous flow of pleasure. It is truly mind-blowing, and something a man is just not cable of achieving. This was what she wanted for herself and her victim.
And there in her bedroom, sitting on her bizarre rocking chair, her mind lost in her strange fantasy, the memory of the pain from the hot wax still fresh, she reached just such a plateau. As intense as the feeling was from the sturdy wooden rod sliding in and out of her cunt, the sensual touch of the nylon dress did a lot to keep her on the edge. It slid constantly over her legs, caressing her with that silky touch that was so erotic to her. Every shudder swept her bare nipples over the lose fabric, adding a special kind of delightful pleasure. She imagined that her pretty young victim was feeling the same thing from her dress.
On and on she went, wave after wave sweeping through her. Not the great, heaving, explosive orgasms that she often had, but rather a soft shower of pleasure that seemed to be without end. In her fantasy she had them both experiencing the same thing, with the added spice of a little pain.
She had no idea how many minutes this lasted. Ten, fifteen, she didn't care. She just kept at it until the last ounce of strength had drained from her. Then she slipped off the gown, staggered into bed, and fell asleep.