Page 7 of Free Fall

“Do it,” he commanded. And fuck, I did.

My fingers grazed my clit, and I tugged at the piercing, rolling it, stroking over it. It took mere moments and I was falling apart with a cry, clenching around him, sinking into the deepest depravity as I flew high for him. My vision darkened and for a moment, the sleeping pills carried me away, the mix of chemicals and endorphins overflooding my brain.

“Good girl, my good girl,” he said with reverence before pounding into me once. Twice. A third time. He roared as he came, and I watched every moment from a detached view. He was stunning, so big and commanding, his shoulder-length dark-blond hair in a ponytail at the back of his head, his beard hiding the contours of his strong jaw. Tattoos creeping up past the neckline of his Henley. Twice he’d fucked me without taking his clothes off.

The thought made me laugh, and as he withdrew from me and leaned backward to look at what he’d done, he laughed too.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of watching my cum sink into your pussy,” he said, running fingers through the mess.

I had no words. So I just laid there, legs splayed open, flesh on display as he played with his spunk soaking my spent hole.

“Tell no one.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my piercing and left me.

Four

Zelda

“Yougonnatellmewhy you have a bite mark on your shoulder, or am I just supposed to guess?”

My heart sank at Seren’s words — shit. I’d tried to hide the bastard thing under a sweater, but as the day had progressed, it’d slipped my mind. I winced and kept myself turned away from her, trying to figure out a decent lie. The girl knew me too well, though.

“Earth to Zel?” she called, giving me a soft slap round the head.

We were in the changing room of the college’s athletic building, headed to different places. She was going to the gym for a traditional treadmill and sweat in the mirror kind of workout. I had my aerial dance class. It was something I discovered once I’d aged out of my casual gymnastics and wanted exercise with a bit more thrill. During the first week of college, they did a display for the freshman, and I was hooked. Being up in the air, twisting around with only ribbons and my strength keeping me safe, it gave me the buzz I craved, pushed me just far enough that it left me on a high for days.

“Intense hook-up,” I told her, cheeks reddening with the lie. “Don’t worry, he asked first.” Hah.

Seren moved up behind me, ran her fingers along the wound. Four days had passed since he did it, so it wasn’t as crusty and swollen as before, just tender, raised. Still, her touch made me shiver, remember how it felt. “I’m not sure how much I like discovering your kinks, Zelly.”

I snorted, thinking about her many drunken tales of all her sexual escapades. Just yesterday, she’d still lamented about the fact she hadn’t found the sexy Tweedledum and Tweedledee again at the Halloween maze - last year she’d had the time of her life with them. I’d sipped my cocktail while she spoke about her desire to be double-penetrated by them, while I hid my fantasies about someone stretching my pussy beyond a cock, a fist. If she saw what my incognito mode had, she’d never looked at me the same.

“Just… be careful, okay?” Her voice was soft, but then she whipped her bra off and began wrestling into a sports crop top, throwing off the tender vibe. One of her tits smushed against her ribcage as she tried to force it under the stiff fabric.

“Only if you are,” I replied, shutting the locker. “No more sex clubs on your own.”

“But they’re so fun.” She pouted. "And it's not like you're one to talk, Miss Stripper Extraordinaire."

I smiled, she wasn't wrong. After Halloween night, I had an overwhelming need to claim my body back in some way, and with the skills I was learning in this class, dancing on a stage by myself, peeling away my clothes and twisting my body up felt right. It clawed back some self-control.

Winking at Seren, I moved to leave. "Gonna go practice some more ways to fall through the air, love you."

"Be safe!"

That was the point. I didn't want to be safe. This controlled that urge.

The rest of the class watched me climb up the lavender ribbon, all my body weight suspended on my feet and hands as I heaved myself up as delicately as possible. It wasn’t just the act of being able to do it, of getting into position, it had tolookgood, effortless. So I hid my grunts and tension — I wasn’t the tiniest person and had some heft — and I got myself positioned and poised.

From below, Avery, one of my closest friends, whooped when I twisted the ribbon around my ankle without having to kick it out first. He was manning the crash mat with our instructor, Penny, grinning up at me with open encouragement.

“Okay, now test the weight — when you get more confident in your ability, you won’t need to, but for now, make sure you’re happy and secure!” Penny called up. This was the highest I’d climbed to perform this trick. The fall down would be all the worse if I misjudged it. But with a frisson of nerves twisting with the ache of pleasure I always felt too when I was up high, I bent my body, dropping into position and swinging back and forth like a pendulum. I loved performing, it gave me power over my body that I craved. The day after Halloween, while I was still bruised and sore, I’d walked into a strip club and applied for a job.

When I showed them a video of how I could move with these ribbons, they’d quickly hired me. It was underhand for sure, they paid me in tips at the end of the night, and I hadn’t signed a proper contract, but I loved it. Just a few weeks in and I found myself addicted to the way it felt. I needed it, right after the fact, when I was still sore and damaged, I craved something new, fresh, healing.

“Yes!” Avery shouted as I moved my body into the next position, twisting ribbon around my ankles and thighs, trying to look as effortless as possible. His bare feet squeaking on the floor as he jumped and cheered for me. He was as good as me up here, if not way better, but his more masculine frame held him back. He called himself a twink, but he was still tall, with slender muscles and a curly mop of black hair on top of his head, meaning he never looked neat. We’d met in freshman year in this very club, hitting it off right away when he made a dirty joke about the football team who’d just trotted past with their bubble butts. Three years later and we’d never stopped gravitating toward each other.

“Now shift,” Penny reminded me, and I straightened back up, my hands tight on the ribbon as my ankles fell free. For a moment, only the grip of my fingers kept me suspended. It would be so easy to let go, to drop, to crush my legs or my ribs and leave smears of blood over the studio with a chorus of screams… The thought blinked away as soon as I had it, but I knew I needed twenty minutes alone with my vibrator later. This class always riled me up. The closer I came to letting the fear overwhelm me, the harder I came later.

Maneuvering through the air to wrap the ribbon around my hips and between my legs, I let myself flip upside down, releasing my hands and hanging with my spine bent backwards. Serene face. Gentle gliding. Though my heart was pounding.

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