Whispers - Volume 3: A Third Collection, page 5
They were alone.
Cyndi gestured to Gerald. "In you go. Unless you want to lap dance me?"
He composed himself and slowly ambled over to her, taking in the view. His nerves began to return, as they always did in the presence of a beautiful woman. His eyes scanned her toned stomach and curvaceous shoulders, her shapely thighs and wonderful hips, not to mention her sublime naked breasts with jutting nipples. As he neared Cyndi, his dubious belief returned.
He looked back at the locked door once again.
Does she know? Surely not?
He cleared his throat. "One thousand pounds. Three wishes. And you get to do one thing of your choice after, correct?"
Cyndi nodded. She slowly slid a hand into her blue panties and sighed, caressing her sex. Her lips parted, her tongue flicked out slowly, and a sigh escaped from deep in her throat. Gerald nearly buckled at the knees, his bulge becoming too much. He placed his drinks onto a bare wooden table beside him, the ice clinking on the glass.
Cyndi stepped up to Gerald and gently placed a slippery finger into his mouth, caressing his chest with her other hand. The move was seductive, meticulously planned. Her smooth digit stroked his tongue, wiping her sweet taste onto it. Gerald moaned loudly; his tongue lapping, his eyes locked on Cyndi, who was staring at him. Her eyes were a stark emerald, alert and ablaze.
Gerald reached out for Cyndi, aiming for her naked chest, but she backed off. "Uh, uh. In the booth." She stepped aside, holding the curtain open for him. Gerald sighed and smiled, collecting one of the drinks from the table. "Three wishes?"
Cyndi nodded.
"Deal." He stepped inside the booth.
"Take a seat, doll," she uttered. Gerald nodded in amazement. It wasn't so much a booth as a small bedroom. The floor tiles clattered as he spun around, taking in the surroundings. A red leather sofa curved across the wall, providing a three-sided seat, a U-shaped arrangement, probably to maximise potential revenue. He'd seen groups of men getting a lap dance before and wondered why they bothered.
Tonight, though, it was all about him.
It's my day.
The whore will pay.
Huge, glittering mirrors adorned the walls, which made Gerald a little uneasy. He turned his back slowly and parked his rump on the middle seat, facing the exit. He felt the comfortable leather wheeze beneath him. From this position, he could see the benefit of the mirrors as a near-naked Cyndi appeared in a variety of angles. From here, he could see her front and back and sides, his eyes steered to her pert buttocks. Once again, he throbbed.
"How do you want to do this?" he asked.
Cyndi raised an eyebrow, and then smiled. "Oh, you mean payment?
Gerald nodded.
"Let's see how it goes … I find money and business usually ruins the … flow of things, if you catch my drift. It can wait." Cyndi began to twirl on the spot, pushing her butt out, crossing her arms in the air above her head. Her eyes never left Gerald and she smiled.
Fuck me; she looks amazing.
What rhymes with amazing … fuck it.
Gerald leaned in close, his mouth beginning to open in awe. He marveled at the sight on display – Cyndi's bronze, curved hips, her shapely buttocks, separated only by a thin line of blue fabric that left nothing to the imagination. Her thighs were wonderful, her perfectly smooth back and shoulders made Gerald purr inside. As she turned facing front, on the full turn, he saw her firm breasts once again, the indentation below her neck where the collarbones met, the sheen of glitter that illuminated her skin, the thin triangle of blue thong hiding the very intimate parts he so craved. He noticed the fabric was damp; a trickle had rolled down her thigh.
She really wants me. I can’t wait.
Little does she know she's the perfect bait.
"What are your wishes…?" She stared at him, awaiting an answer.
Gerald nodded, realising she was prompting him for a name. "My name?" he uttered.
"Yes. If I'm going to fuck you, and trust me, I am going to fuck you, I want to know what I'm screaming when I climax. It's only good manners."
Gerald laughed. "True. My name is Peter."
Cyndi frowned. "Peter … you don’t seem like a Peter. I imagined a different name for you."
"Well, I can’t change my name, can I? It's what I was born with."
"No … I suppose not," Cyndi said, chuckling. "Okay, Peter, what's your first wish?" Cyndi leaned back on the doorframe, her legs wide. Her chest expanded with shallow breaths, bobbing her breasts, much to Gerald's enjoyment. "Remember, you only have three." She held up three fingers, and hovered them above her crotch.
Gerald slapped his hands together, rubbed them and prepared.
This is it, the moment you've been waiting for.
The first wish, then you have two more.
Get her uncomfortable, make her life hell.
Make her weak before you call the final bell.
"I want you to bend over and spank yourself," Gerald said, his eyes blazing with power. "Hard. I want you to flinch and moan. I want it to hurt."
Cyndi stood up. Her eyes narrowed, watching her customer. "Is that all?"
"My wishes, my choices."
She hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. "Foreplay … unusual for a guy. You are full of surprises … Peter. So be it."
Cyndi turned around slowly, and thrust her butt backwards, inches from Gerald's face. She lifted her right leg onto the side seat and spread her legs wide, pushing the buttocks outwards. The blue material slipped a little, exposing her shaven lips. Gerald noticed.
Cyndi smiled. "See something you like?"
Gerald nodded. "Uh huh." He moved forward, hands out.
"No, sit back. Don’t you dare! You get the wishes in order, no backsies. You chose this, so it happens. Take your time. Just think how good it will be when you finally get your tongue on … this." Cyndi slid two fingers over her exposed cleft, moaned, and then lifted her hand up, slapping her right buttock with vehemence. The noise reverberated around the booth, the whack of palm on flesh sounding loud and harsh. The buttock bounced, the flesh wobbling under the impact. Cyndi groaned a little. "Like that?"
Gerald nodded, not paying attention. His hormone-fuelled eyes were firmly on Cyndi's behind. She repeated the action, and this time a red welt appeared, blemishing her skin. She did it again, and let out a grunt. And again. And again. She looked at her customer, her teeth gritted. "This what you had in mind."
"Harder," Gerald spat.
Cyndi paused, flexed her fingers, and spanked again. This time, she shuddered involuntarily; her entire body moved forward a fraction. She felt her insides tense and coil, her buttocks seize as a flash of unexpected pain jolted through her body, almost sending her off balance. Her right cheek was sore and throbbing. Stealing a glance into one of the mirrors, she could see several red palm prints on the bronze flesh. The skin was starting to blister.
"Harder. C'mon girl, put your back into it."
Cyndi tensed, breathed in slowly and smacked herself again.
"Again."
She followed her command, the breath hissing through her teeth.
"Again."
The fury was beginning to build inside her. She smacked the sore flesh, which now felt numb through the increasing pain. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she turned away, hiding her discomfort.
"Again."
Cyndi smacked once more, and this time, she howled loudly. She felt the skin crack; the slight shift of something giving way shook her very being. Pain erupted through her stomach, tingled along her legs, wobbling her at the knees. A warm sensation – slightly camouflaged by the numbing agony – trickled down her butt, between her legs, and she realised she was bleeding. A few drops spattered on the inside of her foot.
"Fantastic," Gerald uttered. His hand was slipping beneath his jeans, caressing his erection. Cyndi placed her right foot down gently, wiped her tears away quickly and turned around, a fake smile on her face. She tried to ignore the sting of the flames scorching her ruptured backside.
"Did I say you were finished?" Gerald spat, drool seeping from his shining lips. He downed his bourbon in one gulp and wiped his lips with his forearm, his eyes filling with rage.
"I … I…" Cyndi began to turn again, her equilibrium shot from the bloodshed.
"Only joking. That was amazing. If I had been wanking then … my, I would be spent."
Cyndi grinned and turned back to him. She unconsciously crossed her arms across her chest, covering her breasts. "One down, two to go. I … if I'd known you liked it rough, I would have offered you a different package."
"I don’t like it rough, it’s the blood that turns me on," Gerald said. A second later, he cursed himself inwardly. You stupid fuck.
Cyndi cocked her head. "What?"
Gerald laughed, backtracking a little. "I like a bit of … bloodletting. You know, nails scratching the back, drawing blood. I ain't no vampire; don’t get me wrong, but the sound a woman makes when her skin splits … there's nothing like it."
Good recovery there. And for once, you ain't lying.
You certainly like the sound a woman makes when she's dying.
Cyndi shook her head, trying to compose herself. "So, how did I sound?"
"Magnificent."
Cyndi nodded. "Give me a second, I need to clean up." She pointed to the blood oozing down her thigh. It had turned the inside of her leg a bright crimson.
"No."
She narrowed her eyes. "Sorry?"
"No. I want you bleeding. Ignore it."
"I could get infected … you could be infected, no offence, and I won't bleed over a client, no matter how much you want it. My business strictly prohibits it."
"Tough."
"I could lose my job."
Gerald stood up. "That's not my problem. You can blame a long line of whores and hookers who ruined it for the rest of you. How hard is it to monitor whom you fuck and suck? How hard is it to provide a condom? Now, sit."
Cyndi shivered, but she lowered her slick butt to the chair. Her left arm remained across her chest as she touched the gash on her butt with her right hand. She hoped it was just a flesh wound.
Gerald smiled. "Good girl."
Cyndi shook her head. "This is very unorthodox, Peter."
"I don't like to be boring. Originality is the spice of life."
Cyndi said nothing.
"Besides, you have my word, I'm clean."
Oh, you little liar! But that's our little secret.
After all, we don't want to fill her with regret.
"Ugh, maybe work on that," Gerald said to himself.
"Work on what?"
Gerald's eyes widened and he stared at Cyndi. "Nothing. Just thinking aloud. Something I forgot to do this morning, I just remembered."
"You normally remember chores when you have a beautiful naked woman at your mercy?"
"What can I say, I'm a kook. And who said it was a chore?"
"Force of habit. First word that came to mind." She breathed in deeply. "You have two more wishes."
Gerald smiled. "So I do."
Two more wishes, oh the possibilities.
Mind you, don't take too many liberties.
Bring her back onside; give her a gesture of good will.
After that, the third wish is the perfect chance to go for the kill.
Cyndi shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, wincing as she did so. She could hear blood pattering onto the floor, could feel it splashing her foot as gravity and natural blood flow worked against her. The wet seat beneath her rump was warming fast, becoming slippery. She watched Peter curiously; saw the cogs whirring behind his eyes. She waited patiently.
"Okay. I decided, because it's unfair otherwise, to let you clean up. That's my second wish."
Cyndi stared at her customer. "You're joking?"
"No. I understand where you're coming from; it’s not your fault the generations of whores before you were a bunch of skanky hose beasts. Besides, I have something exquisite planned for wish number three … and I want you in the best shape possible. And please, accept my apologies for the bloodshed; my debauchery knows no limits sometimes."
Cyndi nodded. "Thank you. I won't keep you long."
"Please don't." Gerald removed his hand from his trousers and licked his fingertips, a spool of clear pre-ejaculate drooping between his lips and the slick digits. "I won't take long."
Cyndi smiled nervously, hobbled between the curtains and disappeared.
Gerald shifted in his seat, wiping his hand on his trousers. He held his hands in the air and interlaced his fingers, then pushed back, away from his body. He felt the muscles clench and force against one another. He imagined Cyndi's neck behind the palms, imagined her dainty neck snapping as he forced her roughly to the floor, or against one of the wall mirrors.
He envisioned her naked form sliding along the glass, the sweaty flesh squeaking as he thrust deep into her, fucking her and killing her at the same time. He imagined the final gasps escaping her mouth as he filled her, as he climaxed deep inside Cyndi as her face contorted in the final throes of death.
He imagined it would be the best yet.
True, it would be his twenty-first in all, but it would be only the second in public, and the first in such a high profile place.
Number twenty-two.
What am I going to do?
Leave the poetry for now. You need to focus. She might suspect.
He remembered his outburst earlier, him blurting out his internal monologue.
Enough. Do it later.
The curtain pulled aside and Cyndi reentered the booth slowly. She wore a transparent blue shawl, one that turned her breasts blue beneath its flimsy material. Gerald licked his lips and slid his hand into his trousers. Cyndi didn’t turn, keeping her backside from view.
"Spin around again. I want the full view."
Cyndi sighed and did so, reluctantly. She turned. Gerald saw a bright white bandage on her buttock. She'd showered the blood away; her legs were less glittery than the rest of her exquisite form. After a full turn, Gerald reached out and took her arms. She moved in gently, spreading her legs and placing one either side of him, the knees coming to rest on the leather. Straddling her customer, Cyndi could feel Gerald's bitter breath on her chest; the smell rose to her nostrils and almost made her gag. She could feel the heat of his groin; her pubic mound was inches from his erection. The material protecting her was so flimsy; she doubted it would prevent penetration if she slammed down.
Closing her eyes, she breathed out. As she opened them, a fake smile crossed her lips. "What's your third wish?"
Gerald pulled his eyes away from her breasts and smiled. "I'm glad you asked. I want to read you a poem as I fuck you."
Cyndi frowned and leaned back a little, conscious of keeping her groin at a reasonable height. "A poem?"
"Yes. I write poetry. Some girls, most girls, don’t appreciate the romance of a poem mid-coitus. Would you?"
"Darling, I've seen all sorts. And you're a paying customer so you can do what you want."
Gerald shook his head. "That’s just it; I don’t want to just be a paying customer. I want you to get lost in the beauty of the words, follow them, and embrace them. I want your orgasm to multiply because of my amazing technique and my prose. I want you to consider leaving your profession because I'm such a romantic, understand?"
Cyndi laughed.
Gerald flinched. "What's so funny?"
"No offence, darling, but that is a real mood killer. Not for me, I'm a pro, you're paying for the time of your life, but you wonder why woman don’t like this? There's your problem. Poetry has a time and a place, and it isn't during unromantic, animalistic fucking. Wrong time, wrong place. Sure, use it to bring on the fucking, but not during. Just a hint."
"But it's my third wish."
"And like I said, I'm a pro," Cyndi smiled. "Where do you want me?"
Gerald chuckled. "You're fine where you are."
Cyndi positioned herself carefully. "You want to know what my thing was?"
"What … oh, your thing. Yes, go on. My wish comes first, though."
"Well … this might actually help. I wanted to tease you, linger inches above your throbbing cock before I slam down and have you cum inside me, hard. It's a trick I learned some time ago … care to humour me?"
It'll be the last thing you do. Shame, you're my kind of woman.
"Sure," Gerald said. "Why not?"
"Excellent. You're about to have the best fuck of your life."
Best. It's better than the last, he thought.
She caressed his chest through his shirt. "Now … play with yourself … slowly."
Gerald undid his buttons hurriedly, slid his jeans down his legs and started stroking his exposed erection. He groaned, finally being free from the tight denim prison. Cyndi smiled, her eyes flicking to his. "My … that's better than average."
Still positioned above him, Cyndi balanced in the air, her crotch inches from his chest. "Now, get stroking. When you're ready, start with the poem. Trust me, you're going to love this."
Gerald grinned, his hand wrapping around his throbbing penis. "I knew you strippers were filthy, but this is a whole other level."
"Poetry. Filthy. Are we having the same conversation?" Cyndi chuckled. "Know your audience, darling," she uttered, her breath coming in gasps, the exertion on her knees and her stretched, injured buttock sending spasms through her limbs.
Gerald smiled. "It won't take long … I've been teetering since you whispered in my ear." Wiping his brow, Gerald checked the curtains had shut, and perused the room slowly for a hidden camera in a small hole or a fake fixture. The walls were smooth, shiny glass. No rims, no fixtures. Unless the cameras were behind the glass, he was home free.
"You look distracted," Cyndi said.
"Just prolonging my release. I'm making the most of the money."
"Good idea," she said, sliding a hand into her panties. "Now, poetry. You're not the only one who's close."
"Okay." Gerald cleared his throat.
"T'was the night before Christmas back in ninety-three.
