Naked Delirium Read online

  It was Scorpion who regained his composure first, realised he wasn’t talking to Zero. “Who are you?”

  “I am Ulric. What have you done with her?”

  “Who?” Twister asked.

  “Adolpha. Why have you trapped her?”

  “We haven’t. She came to us. She’s lost. She wants you. Wants to be with you,” Scorpion said.

  “We’ve missed this. I’ve missed her. She can take it. She loves it.”

  “We know. She wanted to stay. But now you can be together again.”

  “I’m going to hurt her. Then fuck her. Hard.”

  “We promised Adolpha a last play. But you have to look after both of them if we let you do this. Stella is as important to us as Adolpha is to you,” Twister said.

  “Yes, I will. I always did take care. We might never get another chance. Please!”

  I could feel her excitement, her joy at finding her lover again. Fear left me. This would work.

  “Stella, you OK with this?” Twister asked, looking for me deep in my eyes.

  “Let them. She’s OK now. They’ll keep their word,” I reassured him. I could hear Adolpha’s thoughts, and all she wanted now was her man.

  Twister stepped back, sweeping his arm out in an “after you” gesture to Zero. “Ulric, we’ll be here watching,” he said.

  Melody by now had withdrawn, leaving me wide open, wet and still eager to cum. Ulric looked at me, grinned and turned to the toys laid out. He chose a switch made by Zero, a natural birch stick, destined to sting and leave marks if used with any force at all.

  Gently whipping it over my ass at first, the switch warmed my buttocks, forced my attention back to my body and as I began to trust what he was doing, I drifted, allowing Adolpha the space to experience this for the last time.

  Adolpha threw herself into it. “Ulric,” she choked. “Make it good. I’ve missed you so much.”

  Ulric grinned then pulled his arm back. “I will, lover. For us.”

  His well measured first stroke truly made me fly. Straight across both cheeks, the pain leapt out from the targeted flesh, though my buttocks and up through my clit then directly to my brain. Adolpha took over completely. I would be a kind of spectator with feely-vision.

  “Right, bitch. It’s been too long,” Ulric croaked, raising his arm again.

  “Yeow!”

  Crrrack! Adolpha howled. “Bastard!” she cried.

  He laughed. “Yes, that’s right. And you love it,” he said.

  Crrrack! She screamed. A tear escaped down her cheek. He gently wiped it, but grazed her neck with his teeth at the same time.

  “Noisy!” Ulric said, then turned to Twister, “You got a gag?”

  The ball gag forced her mouth wide open, her tongue pushed down, eyes wide with excitement. He looked down at the pegs still attached to her labia and laughed. “They’re going to hurt when they come off, my pretty,” he said sadistically. “And they’re not coming off yet.”

  Using the switch, he flicked it between her legs, forcing them as far apart as possible, given that her arms were still bound above her. She winced as he flicked the pegs, one by one. Waves of pain became waves of rapture coursing through her as she endured his careful, deliberate sadism. Still open from Mel’s fisting, she dripped and dribbled as he cupped her swollen cunt. He roughly pushed in a couple of fingers, then slowly rocked them inside her.

  She groaned. He withdrew, smearing her belly with her own juices.

  “Not yet, not yet,” he said. “Greedy slut. My greedy, open, willing slut. Those breasts of yours have been neglected, haven’t they?”

  She didn’t respond. Grabbing her nipples, he twisted them hard and fast. Squealing, she shifted slightly in her bonds.

  “Do I have to ask you again if they’ve been neglected?”

  She shook her head.

  “What, they haven’t been?” he asked, mockingly. “Nod if they have and they need attention, and do it now!”

  She nodded.

  “They have?”

  She nodded again.

  Without another word he reached down and took two pegs off her labia, one from either side. Blood rushed back into the pinched flesh. “Ugghhh,” she gurgled loudly, another tear escaping down her cheek. But her demeanour told him she was beginning to fly. Electric vibrations of endorphins raced around her body, hot from her cunt to her brain and back again to her clit, red and engorged, almost visibly pulsing.

  As she breathed hard, absorbing the overwhelming sensations, he placed a peg on each nipple. She breathed harder still.

  He undid her arms and dragged her over to the cushions piled high in the dome. Tying her hands together he forced her face down onto them, ass in the air. Twister pushed a bell into her hand.

  “That’s your get-out call,” he said. She nodded.

  Ulric changed the switch for a leather-clad cane.

  Thwack! She grunted, but didn’t try to move.

  Thwack! “Aagghh,” she gargled through the gag. “’At ’urt!”

  He laughed again. “So it should! Take it, my slut!”

  Thwack, thwack thwack! Her ass glowed, throbbed, burned.

  “’Ucking….’astard! E’ough.” But the bell remained silent in her hand.

  That was all the encouragement Ulric needed. Kneeling, he turned Adolpha over onto her back. With the pegs in place, she didn’t need telling to keep her legs spread far apart. Ulric sized up his prize. This slim, glistening hot woman lay gasping before him, ready, so ready to take him. Her breasts still adorned by the pegs, her cunt pegged and wide open, wet and waiting. He knew what she wanted, and how to give it to her. He would make this count.

  Leaning forward, he flicked the pegs, one at a time, starting with her nipples. She moaned, wriggled, knowing what was coming next. Gently, his tongue sought her swollen, fervent clit. Currents of fire fled through her as his tongue slid backwards and forwards, slowly building the pressure. Reaching up, he flicked the pegs on her nipples as he licked. The contrast between pain and the thrill of his tongue took her to new heights. Her ass left the floor as she arched towards his tongue, now desperate to cum, sweat trickling down her cleavage as her chest heaved, gasping with delight and passion.

  Reaching forward with both hands, he simultaneously removed the pegs from her tits. Adolpha screamed through the gag. Ulric slid inside her, sucking and nibbling the inflamed nipples as he did so. Adolpha screamed again, in ecstasy. Fire shot through her body from all angles. The pain from her nipples, the final fulfilment of his rock-hard cock inside her, together with the pain of the pegs still holding her open forced her to cum so hard her whole body jerked and rocked as she cried out through the gag, back arched, head back and throat exposed.

  Ulric took his time. Slowly, he began to move back and forth, sliding his cock a little deeper each time. He hadn’t finished with her yet. His mouth sought her neck, grazing and nibbling her skin as he fucked her. He nuzzled her breasts, sucked at her still engorged and sensitive nipples, eliciting moans of delight from his lover. As he pumped deeper and deeper, she rose to match him, eager for more. Skilfully he built the depth, built the pressure, sensing her rise back to orgasm. As her cries reached their zenith he flicked off the pegs on her labia. She howled as again her body trembled and shook, her cunt clutching his cock tightly as she came. Flying high, lost in the moment, Adolpha relished every second, every nerve in her body bursting with agony and ecstasy all at the same moment. Ulric slammed into her now, his cock filling her, hitting that spot deep inside, prolonging her peak. He came violently, exploding inside her, matching her pleasure with his own.

  Chapter 6

  ♦♦♦♦

  Unleashed

  Twister waited, watching as the pair lay breathless on the cushions, cuddling and caressing together, oblivious to those around them. “Adolpha?” he said eventua
lly. “Ulric?”

  “Thank you,” Ulric replied. “Thank you for finding her, for letting me do this.”

  “Where’s my Stella? Is she OK?”

  “You can have her back now, Twister.” The words came from my mouth, but they were Adolpha’s. “You found my man, my soul mate. We will go and leave you in peace.”

  Ulric and Adolpha, still in their borrowed flesh, kissed. But a few seconds later Twister sensed the change as his lover and his friend both returned to consciousness, to their own bodies. Moments later, it was me looking up at him, grinning.

  “They’re gone. I’m here. And wow, what a session. I hope you were watching, bastard,” I grinned again. “That was amazing!”

  “Woah, Stella,” Zero said eventually. “Crazy woman, that was incredible. What an experience! You up for some more rescue trance work?”

  The relief in the group was palpable, resulting in laughter that took more than a little while to calm down. Twister was the one who managed to regain control first. “Behave, Zero. I think that’s quite enough excitement for one camp. Except, Stella, watching you was hot. Come here, sexy girl...”

  Almost too soon it was time to return home and back to reality. Although, after the week we’d had, normality would bring a welcome change.

  I grinned at the others as I closed my Blackberry and slipped back in the car. “Just got a message from Helen.”

  “Helen? She’s conscious?” Twister said.

  Helen was our freind whose illness had prompted our magical working in the first place.

  “Yeah, she came out of the coma two days ago, and they’re amazed at her recovery! But get this...she said she remembers dreaming about two wolves. They were licking each other and nuzzling her. Then when they wandered off, she woke up.”

  Smoking Hot

  ♦♦♦♦

  by Fulani

  Chapter 1

  ♦♦♦♦

  “Hypnosis,” he’d said, “isn’t like being asleep. You’ll be awake and fully in control the whole time. But you’ll be in a relaxed state and your subconscious will be open to new ideas and able to process them.”

  Hannah could remember pretty much everything he said after that. He asked her to imagine herself on a warm, sunny day, walking in a garden. To imagine the detail of it, the grass, the flowers, their perfume, the feel of sun and breeze on her face. He asked her to imagine walking down steps in the garden, to lower levels, to a point where she felt comfortable and wanted to rest. After that he told her she was free to do anything she wanted to do, that if she wanted to have a cigarette she shouldn’t resist the urge. Rather, she should shift it to some other activity, something else that was enjoyable, rewarding, and helped her grow as a person. He told her there was a paradox about control. She was in control of her life, not because she could exert willpower and be stubborn, which used up emotional energy and would leave her exhausted, but because she could take her cravings and redirect them in positive ways. She would always find something better to do than smoke. The best way to be in control wasn’t to act like she had to be in control, but simply to believe it. When you do that, he said, the smoke (quite literally) will clear. It will leave you with clarity of purpose and intent, better and more positive ways to lead your life, and greater self-confidence.

  And that was how Hannah gave up her 40-a-day habit. She traded it for…well, something else.

  The weirdness kicked in pretty quickly, right about the time she would, in her former habitual-smoker lifestyle, have reached for her next cigarette.

  Hannah wasn’t innocent. She knew exactly why the weirdness was happening. Her subconscious had been processing ideas and leaving her with, apparently, clarity of purpose and intent, better and more positive ways to lead her life, and greater self-confidence.

  She was still exactly the same person: but then again, she wasn’t. She’d become someone new and different, someone with a more self-confident, clearer, positive intent.

  An intent to do the things her subconscious had kept bottled up for, well, quite a while.

  Two hours later Hannah sat in a café she’d found, a new addition to the student-heavy suburb where she still lived. There were old leather sofas, cheap plastic coffee tables and an eclectic mix of old prints and amateurish paintings from local artists. The solitary waiter/bartender, with his shaven head, tattoos and piercings, yet with deep liquid eyes, looked like he’d come straight on over from a horror film set. After serving her drink, he sat behind the bar reading something on a tablet.

  Looking around, Hannah thought the down-at-heel arty ambience was cool; but she was the only customer, so maybe the place wouldn’t last that long.

  She sipped at the large latte, and ideas rubbed together sensuously in her mind and created heat in her body. She’d taken the day off work, had time to chill and do self-indulgent non-smoker things before she’d found this place. She’d browsed for a new dress: stopping smoking saves money, so consider it an advance on the money I’ll save. She didn’t see a dress she wanted, because none of them fitted the fantasies that were running around in her head. Anyway, you can’t buy the fulfilment of fantasies in a shop.

  Except you can, apparently, buy bondage gear in a charity shop. She’d looked into one of the three such shops in the tiny suburban mall, the one that helped fund a pet rescue centre. And among the shelves of old paperbacks, china and second-hand clothes, she found a pair of black leather cuffs with chunky buckles and heavy D-rings on them. There was no way you could pass them off as just a fashion item. Their sudden appearance in a random charity shop, so immediately after Hannah’s indecorous thoughts, was a completely unpredictable coincidence. Or synchronicity.

  Unless, of course… Hannah had no religious or metaphysical convictions, but it seemed almost to be a message from the universe. Buy these and you’ll find what you’re looking for.

  The latte was creamy in Hannah’s mouth, and the background music – raspy vocals and metallic-sounding folk guitar – growled at her: “Wake up, sinners!”

  Yeah. Wake up, sinner! The smell of the coffee began to reawaken the old urge to smoke. She needed to keep her hands busy. Idly she pulled one of the cuffs from her capacious shoulder bag, toyed with it, felt the softness of the inner lining around her wrist. She could imagine herself comfortably restrained — because, after all, who wants to be tortured in an uncomfortable position? — and having things done to her that she wouldn’t allow if she could resist.

  It was as much as she could do to keep her hand from stroking her thigh, her nails from tracing gently up the inside seam of her jeans.

  When the waiter looked up from his pad, she ordered another coffee. He brought it to the table and, from her position on the low sofa, she admired thighs tightly defined under leather trousers, neat package there behind the zip, heavy metal buckle on the belt. He moved with the ease and grace of…a fox or a wolf, perhaps?

  “Shopping?”

  Hannah just knew where his gaze was directed.

  “Uh… Yeah.” She raised her face, looked into those liquid brown eyes, smiled at him. “In a charity shop, strangely enough.”

  “They normally come in pairs…”

  He was leading her on. That was no bad thing. There’s the paradox. Taking control sometimes means giving it away. She pulled the second cuff from her bag, put it around the other wrist.

  He watched her carefully, his dark eyes giving nothing away. Then he fished in a pocket and pulled out a small padlock, the kind you might use on a suitcase, a locker…or a pair of cuffs. Slowly, almost experimentally, he used it to lock the D-rings on the cuffs together. The soft click of the padlock was a shocking sensation, reverberating through Hannah’s brain and body. If he’d bent her over and slapped her ass it couldn’t have been more startling. Or more exciting.

  “You can undo the buckles anytime,” he said, voice as liquid as his eyes, and a
s smooth as the latte. “So you’re not really restrained, unless you want to be. Enjoy your coffee. If you want me to remove the padlock, I’ll be at the counter. If not…” He nodded in the direction of the back wall. “The restroom is through that door. And please, make yourself….presentable.”

  It was as much as Hannah could do just to nod, yes, I understand what you’re saying.

  The whole scenario felt to Hannah like she’d either wandered unsuspecting into a parallel universe, or had somehow become a completely different person. Or both. How could that happen just by going for a mid-afternoon latte? She sipped the drink, feeling the weight of the cuffs and being very aware of how visible they’d be to anyone else in the place.

  After a while, there were other people in the place, arty types about her age, with the dress and appearance of bohemian, creative, but minimum-wage lifestyles. Wrapped up in their own conversation, they paid her no attention. Hannah felt herself having to resist the bizarre urge to walk over to them, holding out the cuffs. Look! See how I’m in bondage, in a public place! Isn’t that worth a bit of your attention?

  A woman in the group was tall and willowy with shoulder-length purple hair, a ring in her lip and a slashed T-shirt. Someone in their circle addressed her as “Rapture” as though that was her name. Perhaps the name was a reflection of her personality… Or was that just Hannah, projecting her own fantasies? Hannah could imagine this woman grinning deviously, telling how she’d been stripped, fucked and crucified in a nightclub a couple of days previously. Maybe she had.

  Hannah finished her coffee. Didn’t even think about what she was going to do next, because the waiter’s words were still clear and vivid in her mind. She rose awkwardly from the sofa and walked across the floor, looking neither right nor left, to the door that led out to the restroom. Beyond it, a short corridor: peeling paint, ducting along the low ceiling, boxes stacked against the wall. The second door on the left was the restroom, larger than she expected, and with antique fittings. She closed the door but didn’t lock it.