Page 94 of To Save Him

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-one

 

I WATCHED THE scene in front of me, both horrified and fascinated.  Less than ten minutes earlier, Brandon and I had walked into this room the size of an extra-large master bedroom and sat in one of the metal folding chairs lining two of the walls.  In front of us was a bed, several contraptions, and a heterosexual couple.  And all but two of the dozen or so chairs were taken.

Brandon had whispered in my ear, as if to explain the sight, that this was a room for both voyeurs and exhibitionists, and so I shouldn’t be shocked at either the little show taking place nor the various person here or there rubbing one out on the sidelines.

I sat in the chair, trying to understand why we were here.  Was Brandon more turned on by watching than doing?  I was afraid to look at him once we sat down much less what was in front of me.  More than that, I was trying not to look as shocked and disturbed as I felt by what I was viewing—not that it would matter; my mask no doubt hid most of my obvious emotion.  I glanced over at Brandon, because I had to know, and he was watching as if the two people close by were in a movie—mildly entertained and nothing more.

I forced myself to look at them again, hoping to find some meaning in the actions of the two people engaging in a semi-sexual, slightly sadomasochistic act.  One of them was a woman with reddish-blonde hair and on the tall side…and, the more I watched her, the more certain I was that she’d been JR’s third grade homeroom teacher.  But with little clothing and the mask, I couldn’t be positive.  And that also missed the entire point of this place that Brandon had been trying to impress upon me:  anonymity and—short of that—a level of deniability.  Add to it how would a person accuse another person of engaging in such acts without giving away their own involvement?  A catch-22 to be sure, and I planned to never tell a soul I’d been to this place—not that I knew where this place really was.

So this woman—she was restrained in a contraption much like Brandon and I had observed back when we’d gone online and started looking at various sexual items that might speak to his particular tastes.  Her hands were tied behind her back, but her legs were spread open at the ankles by a bar.  A man, holding a leather whip with knots at the end (I thought it might be a cat o’ nine tails), was snapping it on her bottom and then at her exposed nipples in a pattern.  Watching it made my nipples and ass ache in sympathy.

Only the woman liked it.

A lot.

She moaned louder and louder with each crack of the whip until the man finally pulled off a piece of cloth from the front of his chaps and ripped the string off her panties and entered her.

Only he was fucking her anally.

And she seemed to like it, because she screamed louder and louder, so much so that I felt turned on just by the noises she was making.

That was when Brandon placed his palm on my bare leg and squeezed before rubbing his fingers up and down the side of my thigh.  How the hell did he know I was getting aroused against my will?  In spite of that, I also found it disturbing that this man was hurting this woman, whether she liked it or not, and I couldn’t tell if her moans were of pleasure or pain.  I wanted to run or, at least, bury my head and cover my ears, but I couldn’t.  I was here.  I was exposed.

I knew it would make me seem like a prude, but I didn’t care, because no one would know that I closed my eyes in that mask.  I thought it would help to not see the brutal way he was taking her.

But it didn’t.  The sounds and the smell, combined with the feel of Brandon’s hand on my legs, made me feel incredibly dirty and turned on.  So, when the couple was done and Brandon stood, holding his hand out to me, I took his.  I wasn’t sure if maybe we were leaving now, if that was exposure therapy.

When he led me to the bed, though, I knew what he had in mind, and it was that we weren’t going to be mere voyeurs.  He wanted me to enjoy exhibitionism.

So I stood in front of him, on the floor where the previous couple had been moments earlier.  The area had been wiped down, much like gym equipment, and a chemical citrusy smell clung to the air, distracting me a little, but not enough to not realize that the man directly in front of us still had his semi-hard cock in his hand.

I didn’t want to know if he had come already or not.  I didn’t want to think that perhaps Brandon and I would be arousing him soon.

Fortunately, Brandon distracted me when he walked behind me, much like the previous couple, only I felt his hands on my shoulders, ready to pull the overcoat off.  I followed his lead and began unbuttoning the front so it would slide off.  In mere moments, I was exposed to our eager audience.  The underwear didn’t nearly cover enough.  Yes, it covered my most naughty bits and I knew I could walk down a beach and not get more than a glance from anyone, but my core felt exposed too.

It felt like they could see my soul.

Brandon tossed my coat on the bed and then brushed my hair aside to kiss my neck.  Rather than continue to look at the people whose hidden eyes were affixed to our actions, I lowered my eyelids so I could focus instead on how Brandon was making my flesh feel.

And it was good.

But then I felt his hands tense up on my arms before he let go and walked around to face me.  “On your knees,” he said.  There was no mistaking the tone of his voice.  It was an order and I needed to obey it.

Not that I’d had any intention of going against his wishes.  As I started to drop to the floor, he said, “Wait.”  I paused, feeling almost like I was suspended from the ceiling and unable to grab hold of anything.  Brandon touched my shoulders before fingering the straps of my bra and peeling them down my arms, forcing my breasts out of the cups that hid them.  Then he placed his hand on my head as if to push me down, but there was no need.  I dropped to my knees as he unzipped his slacks.  “Are you hungry, baby?”

“Oh, yes.”  I wasn’t surprised to find his cock hard as steel when he pulled it out of his pants.  I adjusted my toes, a little uncomfortable in that position in those shoes, and then stuck out my tongue to lick the head of his cock.  I heard a groan—but not from Brandon.  It was from one of the men who sat in the audience.  Brandon pulled his fingers through my flowing locks and held the tresses in a knot at the back of my head, and I could feel his satisfaction through his grip alone.

I sucked him inside my mouth, my tongue continuing to tease while I put pressure on more of that sensitive flesh.  Somehow, I felt inspired and motivated to bring him more pleasure than before, probably because we were being watched.  But I also felt empowered…

And turned on like never before.

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