Bibliophile Érotique: Elisa Sharone

 

Nothing Standard About It

 

The black silken blindfold does its job well as he leads her into the comparative quiet. The traffic noise and excited voices of the street side café patrons recede. “Welcome Mr. and Mrs. X. Your room is ready. 525. Marco will show you the way.” To her, the voice is disembodied. The goosebumps rise on her flesh and she feels shame burn across her cheeks. They know why we’re here, she thought. The blindfold and my dress are dead giveaways. And where are we?

She’s so excited about this night. She’s been preparing for it for ages, and despite the shame of the moment, the thought of being with him tonight is the only thing that’s kept her sane for weeks.

Entering the elevator, she feels disoriented by the eerie music playing as they ascend. The five flights seem to take longer than they should. He presses her to the wall and slides his hands over her body, cupping and squeezing her breasts, her ass. Fuck, but the bellboy is right here, is all she can think. She tries to shrink into the corner, but part of her feels the thrill of being on display. Deprived of sight, she focuses on the sensations his touch creates and tunes into the heat rising off her skin. Languidly she relaxes into his hands, her reverie broken by the arrival of the elevator on their floor.

A few minutes later they are in the room, the bellboy pointing out what she assumes to be elegant features, including a sizeable tub for two. “Enjoy your stay,” he says, and the door closes behind him.

“Get naked. Now.” His commands are loud and abrasive, echoing through the room. He takes her by surprise. She didn’t think it would be this way tonight. She’s worried they have different…expectations.

Slowly she works the zipper down the side of her dress, peeling it from her body until she stands in front of him in nothing but her lacy lingerie and sleek high-heeled sandals, hip cocked to one side, her body curving sensuously. Teasing him is a pleasure in itself.

“Naked,” he barks harshly. He doesn’t relent, and her expectations shatter. She draws her panties down her hips and cautiously steps out of them, feeling lost, deprived of her sight. She centers herself and imagines him watching her, laying a palm against his already solid cock and rubbing his fingertips over the head through his pants. She knows there’s nothing between them but the soft fabric. Thinking about it sends a jolt to her clit.

Reaching behind, she slides the hooks of her strapless bra open with one hand, holding the cups to her chest with her free forearm. She knows there’s no choice, and a moment later she drops the delicate garment to the floor. Her nipples rise, growing hard and tight as they’re exposed to the cool air. She stands gloriously naked in front of him, save her shoes. Her body is soft and beautiful, her waist slender and belly flat, with full, heavy tits and softly curving hips. She feels his eyes appraising her, taking in her shoulder-length chestnut hair, her striking blue eyes and sculpted cheekbones, her full pink pout. Though she looks nothing like an airbrushed supermodel, she has the sort of body for which men and women both lust. Her imagination again wanders to his cock, and she wonders if he’s touching himself as she stands there, displayed for him.

Gently, he touches her blushing cheek, softly fluttering his fingertips against her skin. Ah, this is it, she thinks, this is what I wanted. Running his finger to her lips, he parts them with the tip of his thumb, his thick digit lurid between her rosy lips. He slips it inside, seeking the heat of her tongue. She swirls her tongue around his fingertip and presses it against the roof of her mouth, sucking him further into her warmth. A smile plays around the corners of her mouth. Hooking his thumb over her bottom teeth he jerks her mouth open, taking her by surprise. “Naughty little slut.”

Her face flushes a deeper red and her nipples tingle. She inwardly loves it when he calls her names. It makes her feel edgy and raw, as if what they’re doing is forbidden and taboo. She hates to admit it, but she likes it when he objectifies her. She tips her head toward the floor just the tiniest bit.

She knows how hard it turns him on when she backs down, when she shows him her submissive side, however slight it may be. But what he’s doing tonight is different. It’s as though he wants to use her, to humiliate her, and in so doing, debase her to her purest animal form. She’s been in control of herself, of everything, for too long. Maybe it’s just what she needs.

Tracing his fingers down her arm, he raises goosebumps on her flesh, her hair stands on end and dainty little prickles cover her skin. She softens again and drops her guard. She comes down off her edge, the one he put her on when he roughly forced her mouth open. Her shoulders soften, her head lolls to the side, and her lips slacken. She begins to feel hypnotized by his touch.

A moment later he seizes her wrist, twists it behind her back and pushes her ahead of him. She’d been lost in the moment, floating back into the scene she imagined for their night together, one wholly different from where she finds herself now. She stumbles and nearly trips, her feet and ankles twisting around each other, forced to move forward while still mid-turn. He holds her tightly by the wrist and her shoulder pinches as he pulls her up from her stumble. “Move,” he growls, pushing her from behind, his larger frame forcing her across the room.

He presses her forehead against glass and she realizes it’s a window just as he pulls the blindfold from her eyes and implores her to look out and down. The entire wall is glass, revealing its inhabitants to the darkness beyond, a horizon glittering with innumerable tiny points of light. She can see the people working late in the building across the way, a fashion showroom on one floor, rows and rows of computers on another. The inky black Hudson is visible off to the left, piers jutting out into the water. In the near distance to her right, the Empire State building twinkles.

What she sees surprises her; the elevated park just beneath them seems much closer than she would have expected, people milling around, enjoying the chilled evening air. She’s sure that she can make out facial features, see the glow of their cell phones and iPads, and see the people kissing on park benches. Every light in the room is on, and it dawns on her that they can see her engorged pink nipples, her nearly bare cunt, and her apprehensive and slightly frightened expression. He presses his hand against the back of her neck. “What do you see, baby?” he asks with a touch of malice in his voice.

“I see people who can see me,” she replies, her voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, people who can see you,” he mocks. “Does that scare you, baby?”

She nods almost imperceptibly, her head pressed against the glass. “Mmhmm,” she barely gets the sound out of her throat.

“What can those people see, baby?”

“Me. Naked in the window.”

“No. I asked what. Can. They. See?” His mouth is close to her ear, his voice on the edge of anger. He tightens his grip on the back of her neck. “Tell me, fuckdoll. What can they see?”

“Your naked fuckdoll in the window.” A tear rolls down each cheek.

He’s done it. He’s made her fantasy come true. She’s taken utterly by surprise, never expecting that they would really end up here. Never expecting that it would be tonight of all nights.

He presses against her, smashing her whole body against the window. Two fingers slide into her from behind. She feels embarrassed at how easily they breach her. “My. Naked. Fuckdoll.” With each word he shoves in deeper and harder.

Removing his fingers from her slick cunt, he releases the hand from the back of her neck and slips his wet fingers into her mouth. “Suck,” he commands. And she does. She closes her eyes so she won’t have to see the people across the way in the office building. Or the people down below in the park. She closes her eyes and sucks on his fingers just as she’d sucked his thumb moments before. But this time there is no smile on her face. This time she’s a little frightened and a little ashamed, but it’s impossible to hide her arousal and excitement.

He withdraws the fingers from her mouth and runs his hands down her body, drifting between her tits, down the flesh of her belly, and finally to her cunt. His other arm wraps around her neck, holding her to him, his strong hand gripping her shoulder. She’s been holding her breath and his arm pressed into her chest forces a deep, sighing exhale from her body. She is subdued.

“Feet up on the window, slut. Spread your knees.” She obeys, placing the soles of her shoes on the window at waist height, spreading her knees wide and pressing her weight back against his body. Her cunt is open, clearly visible to anyone who happens to look up, but for the moment his large fingers shield her glistening folds from view. Slowly he begins to massage her, pressing the heel of his hand against her clit, his fingertip resting against her dewy hole. Braced between the window and his strong chest, she feels oddly secure, as long as she doesn’t open her eyes. She leans back into his solid presence and focuses on the feeling blooming between her thighs.

His rhythmic pressure on her clit soothes her and soon she’s lulled into a sense of contentment. Her weight sags against him as she begins to drift away, falsely secure. Two fingers probe her roughly and he squeezes his palm against her clit, pushing it hard against the underlying bone. Her eyes pop open and instinctively she pushes against the glass with her feet and scratches at his sides, struggling to get away. He fights her easily and pushes her more deeply toward the window.

When she relents so does he, letting her assume a more comfortable position, but still with her feet on the window, knees and pussy spread. His two wet fingers tweak her clit, shooting electric jolts through her body. She sees his smile reflected in the glass and thinks her reaction pleases him. He responds with a more forceful assault on her erect clit. First slowly, then faster, his fingers circle, flick, and pinch her, pushing her ever closer to the brink of orgasm. She tries to hold back, the fear of being on display still fucking with her mind.

Twice he pushes her to the edge and then lets her back again. By the third time her eyes are closed, strands of hair plastered to her cheeks with perspiration, and her mouth is open and panting. She’s losing control and on the verge of falling apart. He ramps up the onslaught against her clit— pinching, pulling, pressing, rubbing—everything he can do to push her to the point of no return. The muscles of her thighs twitch; her control is all but gone. He slides those two fingers back into her gaping, aching cunt and seeks the spot behind her clit. He presses there as his thumb flicks across her swollen bud and feels the quick sudden spasms on his fingers. She wails as the heat spreads through her groin and the spasms come fast and hard. She thrashes but he won’t stop. She knew what was coming, and as much as her mind wills it stop, her body forces it to happen. She clenches and cries, but his fingers are too much for her and she feels the spray erupt from her body and splash hard against the window. Each hard spasm between her legs sends her gushing again, and the spray splashes back onto her each time it hits the glass. Her orgasm paints the window and he watches the rivulets drip down to the floor. He finally allows her to lower her legs, and as she does so, he pushes her body against the window, soaking her skin in her juices. He’s broken her and sent her to the place of pure animal desire.

“On your knees.” She begins to sink down. “Lick it,” he commands. She obeys, and as she lowers herself, she runs her tongue down the window, lapping her squirt from the glass as she goes down. She’s no longer conscious of the people across the way or down below. The unfamiliar surroundings of the hotel room fail to penetrate her consciousness. Her hair is damp and tousled; melted eye makeup rings her eyes. She’s been transformed from a beautiful young woman to a filthy, used fuckdoll.

She’s a weakened mess, sitting back on her heels, shoulders sagging as she tries to catch her breath. Instead she’s dragged upright by the fist in her hair, and he tips her head back forcing her to look up at him. He twists the blindfold around her wrists and pushes her to kneel in front of him. “You know what’s next, fuckdoll.” She drops her eyes from his, down to the tie and collar open at his neck, and finally to the bulge inches from her face. The backdrop recedes completely and her tunnel vision focuses only on the solid outline of his cock, just as she’d imagined it earlier.

She pulls the cummerbund from his waist, opens the button of his pants, and slowly lowers the zipper. She’s oblivious to the window now, her profile and his on display. Pushing the fabric to the sides, she releases his thick cock. Her wet, soiled body is a sharp contrast to his fully clothed one. He still wears his tie, the black braces attached to his trousers, and the cufflinks at his wrists. She takes the hard, tight, shiny head between her lips, raising her eyes to his only briefly. She swirls her tongue around him, teasing his slit and pressing the head to the roof of her mouth with her tongue. She previewed her best moves when his thumb invaded her mouth earlier in the evening.

Finding a rhythm, she slides her hot, wet mouth down his length. He grazes her soft palate with each stroke, eliciting that familiar tickle at the back of her throat. Hands tied, she can take him only so far with her mouth and she struggles. She wants to swallow him whole, feel his entire cock inside her. She pleads with her eyes, and a second later his fist is back in her hair, perspiration soaked strands tightly wound about his fingers. The pain of hair pulling forces tears to prickle in her eyes as he holds her head steady and thrusts into her throat. Her intuitive reaction is to fight and her throat tries to close against him. He breaks her resistance and breaches her gag reflex. His cock slides deeper into her mouth, her lips kissing the skin at the base.

He fucks into her mouth deeply and slowly, feeling her throat open and close around him. He watches the tears stream from her smiling eyes, her hair still wound tightly through his fingers, the taut strands painfully teasing her scalp. “Such a good little cocksucking slut,” he whispers, and he watches her nipples harden again as she processes the words. No matter how she thought this evening would turn out, she wants him more than anything at this moment. She’s wanted him like this since the first time they met. Really, since the first time they fucked outdoors by the river, before they even knew each other’s names.

He holds his cock in her throat, her lips tight around the base and barely thrusts into her mouth, pushing himself close to the edge of orgasm. As amazing as he feels filling her mouth, she knows it’s not what he wants. It’s not what she wants, either. With an anxious groan he pulls away from her lips and slips his hand out of her hair and down to the back of her neck. He squeezes slightly, signalling for her to stand. She unfolds herself, testing her weight on her tired and aching legs. Reaching around, he unbinds her and she shakes her arms, feeling the blood run back into her hands.

“Now, baby,” he says quietly. She looks at him expectantly and he barely nods an assent, his eyes softening for the first time since they entered the room. Slowly she pulls the unfurled black bowtie from his collar and slips the studs from his shirt. She slides the braces off his shoulders and removes each cufflink, setting everything on the night table behind him. She finally glances around the room, her surroundings failing to register until now. Two things capture her attention: the big white bed and the glassed-in shower and tub fully open to the room and to the window. This room was built for sexalicious exhibitionism, she thinks.

She pushes the shirt off his body and pulls the snow white t-shirt over his head. She rests her hands on his muscled chest and presses her nose to him for just a moment, inhaling his warm, musky scent. She slides her hands down to his waist and pushes his tight, thin trunks from his hips and they follow his pants to the floor. Fluidly she sinks down and removes his shoes and socks, carefully pulling each pant leg off to render him as nude as she is. He’s still beautiful and pristine, as perfectly groomed as he was hours ago when he donned the tuxedo.

Gently he pushes the dishevelled hair from her face, and runs a thumb over her red-stained lips. Again she sucks his thumb into her mouth and swirls her tongue around it, but this time the smile on her lips is echoed by her eyes. She reaches for his cock, still damp with her saliva and slides the tip through her dripping slit. That’s all she gets away with before he lifts her and slams her back to the window, covering her mouth. Instinctively she wraps her legs around his waist and buries his cock in her pussy, grinding her hips into him, rubbing her clit against him as each stroke drives more deeply into her.

She locks eyes with him as he fucks her hard against the wall of glass. She can’t moan, groan, or scream, but strangled whimpers escape through the seal of his palm. She craves him so desperately, and no squirting orgasm or crazed throat-fucking could compare with the sensation of her aching cunt stretched around him. She clenches him tightly, working over his length as he pumps into her. She feels the ridge of his head bump over her g-spot and grinds harder against him, anxious to come again.

He whispers in her ear, telling her what a good little slut she is, such a perfect little fuckdoll, how proud he is of her for going through with her fantasy.

They meet each other hard with their thrusts and the first tremble of her orgasm begins. She nods her head quickly, blue eyes wide and gleaming. The heat spreads out from behind her clit, deep into her pelvis and she involuntarily spasms around him. Pinning her to the glass with his cock, he presses his mouth hard against hers, the first kiss they’ve shared since crossing the threshold. He devours her, groaning into her mouth as he comes, her fingers softly cupping his balls, feeling each contraction pulse into her.

***
Hours later she wakes as daylight pierces the sheer curtains partially drawn over the windows. Bleary-eyed she surveys the damage. Her pillow is streaked with gray and pink, yesterday’s makeup smeared into the fabric. The formerly pristine windows are covered with smudges from where he used her against them. His clothing is piled on the floor near the window where she stripped him: black pants, white tux shirt, shiny dress shoes. The lacy confection of her beautiful dress is still in the perfect circle where it landed as she shimmied out of it, her white strappy heels kicked off near the bed.

A knock interrupts her reverie. She pulls a robe from the hook by the door and slips it on as she peers through the peephole. Room service. He must have ordered it. The young, vaguely sexy hipster sets the tray on the table, and she can’t help but notice his eyes wandering over the room. She cringes as his vision rests on the unmistakable body print on the window.

“Good morning, ma’am. I hope you’re enjoying your stay with us,” he whispers so as not to wake her husband.

She’s sure she sees a smirk on his lips as he presents her with the check to sign. She opens the folder and reviews the bill. The sumptuous breakfast laid out before her appears to be…free.

“I think there’s an error. You haven’t charged us,” she points out, suddenly conscious of the apparent state of her hair and face.

“It’s on the house, ma’am. A little wedding present for you both. We hope you enjoy the rest of your honeymoon.”

He takes the black folder from her hands, winks, and slips out the door.

 

 

The author:

 

Elisa Sharone’s super popular, super sexy, super secret sex blog has soaked hundreds of thousands of panties across the globe.  She’s wandering a new path, dipping into the deepest, darkest recesses of her imagination to bring readers brain-melting erotica that leaves them gasping for more.