Authors: Elle O'Brien
by Elle O’Brien
Copyright © 2013 by Elle O’Brien
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
I never thought I would be someone writing you a letter…but then again, I never thought I’d be someone who needed to write you a letter, either. I thought sex was easy, kind of like following the instructions on how to put together a piece of furniture from IKEA. Insert here, no assembly required, that sort of thing. In reality, sex has become difficult for me…and when I say difficult, I mean horrible. Why dance around it? Sex with a partner, or even two, isn’t doing it for me. Not only is it not doing IT, it isn’t doing ANYTHING. Help me, please, I’ve even lost faith in my vibrator, and that bitch cost me almost a grand.
Truly (truly frustrated),
Tired in Tennessee
Dear Tired in Tennessee,
A grand? Wow, you are tired. Now, to address your issues: sex should never be as complicated as putting together a piece of furniture, from anywhere. Honey, if you think those directions are EASY, no wonder you’ve had such a rough time getting some that got you off. Sex has no guidelines, no rules, no manual, only sensations. So, you need to start back at the basics. First lesson: imagination. Describe your fantasies to me. Fantasies bring us into contact with what our body is asking us. What is yours asking you?
I do have fantasies, one in particular that always wakes me up in the middle of the night…
laying down on a bed and there are cool sheets beneath me. I know I’m naked because I can feel a breeze over my skin and my nipples pucker at the sensation, urging me to stroke them with my hands. And then there are a set of soft hands trailing up my legs from my ankles to my knees, soft, fingertip caresses that leave a wake of sensations burning through me, all pooling at my center. When those fingertips reach my hips, they come in and then brush down again, missing my heat and massaging the inside of my thighs. Just as I’m about to cry out, to beg for more, my breasts are being molded, weighed, fondled…and the hands there are different, rougher than the ones still stroking my thighs. Then I feel breath on my neck, lips, tongue, trailing paths from my collarbone to my shoulder, down, down, until my nipples are being sucked, bitten, and at the same time, there is moisture on my thighs, kisses on my stomach, a tongue diving at my pussy, the sensations and rhythm the same, the thrusts calculated and in tune as if both sets of hands know and understand that my body needs this, needs it in order to survive. But just as I’m about to climax, just as my body goes stiff and my knees bend higher, I wake up.
What is my body telling me,
to fuck off?
Tired in Tennessee
Wow, your body is telling you a lot. First and foremost, it’s telling you that it needs to be touched. Not handled, not ravished, but touched, enjoyed, thoroughly seduced and taken to that place where pleasure is only given. You’re a giver in your sexual relationships, I can tell without asking. Your subconscious is trying to tell you that right now, you need to take. You need to find a way to embrace only your desires, only your needs, and shut away whatever else is going on to just feel. This takes time, and dedication. If you’re willing to give some of both, I have the answer you need.
Kia stood outside of the
cliffside mansion and wondered for the twelfth time what the hell she was doing. She’d taken a thousand dollars out of her savings and used the rest of her vacation days because some sex Madame had told her she knew how to fix her orgasm. Kia didn’t know if she was more depressed because her orgasm was broken, or because she was desperate enough to listen to an email from a stranger. Either way, she was here, on the coast off of Washington State, standing outside of a large wood and glass structure with no luggage, no phone, only her purse with identification to get her on and off of her flights. For the next four days, she was at the mercy of whatever the Madame had set up for her, and for some reason, that sent a tingle of excitement coursing through her.
four days she didn’t have to be Kia Williams, Professor of Anthropology. She didn’t have to wear professional suits and her hair in a French twist. She didn’t have to wear panty hose and high collared shirts to hide her chest while she studied and lectured on cultures and indigenous people and their relationships, their social habits, their desires and their reasonings. She didn’t have to stand at the front of the classroom or sit behind a piece of glass or a table and watch from afar. For four days she got to feel, to be touched, to be something and someone else. She got to live instead of watch, and if it took a chunk of her savings, she knew just this feeling was worth it.
Stepping up to the door, she straightened her shoulders and knocked.
The house may have looked subdued on the outside, but inside was nothing but decadence and beauty. White lights wrapped around everything, sheer white curtains hanging from ceilings to act as dividers, circling individual pieces of furniture, framing the windows that were tinted to filter the sun and one’s ability to see in. When she was led to her room by an almost sedate brunette in a white sundress and bare feet, Kia wasn’t sure if she was in the right place. M had called it a retreat…but Kia had assumed it would be all dark fabrics and red velvet.
Now, thirty minutes after being signed in and led to her room that housed a large bathroom with a tub and separate glass encased steam shower, a large bed done in rich purple and light gray, and a headboard draped in lights, Kia wasn’t sure if this week was going to be anything she expected. Spotting a note on the small table that held the champagne bucket and one flute, already full, she smiled to herself as she picked up the glass and started to read.
Welcome to Paradise. For the next six days you are to do nothing but enjoy yourself, that’s why you’re here, after all. In order to ensure this, we’ve set up a daily schedule that we will place in your room every morning. In it you will find all of your activities and instructions. Should you need anything beyond that, just ring the bell on the inside of your door. Someone will assist you…whatever your need.
Below is tonight’s schedule and instructions. Follow them and let the enjoyment begin.
Kia continued on, turning the thick cardstock over to find her instructions. When item one read “run hot water, dump bath salts and bubbles in, and soak” she was already removing her blouse.
Sticky from a day of traveling, Kia gladly stepped out of her clothing as she padded toward the bathroom, champagne glass in hand. Turning on the faucets, she set the temperature of the water and began to pour the crystals and liquid from the beautiful bottles that lined the tub. Twisting up her long brunette locks, she used the pins on the vanity to secure it before reading through the rest of the list for the night.
Night one is all about touch. You’ve lost your sensitivity to sensation, and so you are going back to the beginning. Touch with hands only—yours, theirs, ours. As many hands as you can. No kissing, no tongues, no lips. Just hands. Turn on your iPod and enjoy the water. More awaits when you are done.
A pretty easy night, Kia thought as she set the card down and turned toward the bath. Spying the iPod, she walked over and hit play, enjoying very much the low, rhythmic beat that pulsed out softly. Taking the candle matches, she set to putting the mood, lighting all of the tea lights, filling the room with scent and shadows. When she was done, she turned toward the water, turning off the tap before sliding in, her long tan legs bent slightly as she sank down in the frothy water. She was a beautiful woman, especially now when her skin was dewed from the heat of the water, and her breasts were swollen and rising above the bubbles, only her pink nipples covered. Her brown eyes were darker now as the sensations started to ride along her skin, her cheeks turning a dewy pink as she tipped her head back and arched into the water, her eyes closing as she felt the bubbles swirl around her.
Her skin hadn’t felt like this in months, nothing like this silky, wanton, electric feel, where everything was noticed, every swish of the water, every graze of a bubble. Taking her empty hand, Kia slowly ran it down her side, from her breast to her ribcage, down her hip and thigh to her calf. Then as she had imagined, she slid her palm over the top of her calf to the inside, gliding up and over her leg until she got to the juncture of her thighs. A light pulse beat there, as if beckoning her. Remembering the instructions, she glided her fingertips slowly up and over her mound, pressing slightly when she felt her clit, arching her back when her whole body reacted and tightened. And then there were hands on her breasts, kneading, cupping, stroking, tugging on her pebbled nipples until she thought she would scream in pleasure and pain. Arching into those hands, she left hers where it was, manipulating back and forth, a quick scissor of her fingers and then a constant thrusting of them, over and over and over as her breasts were handled. She was lost, consumed by what was happening to her, the weighted, drugged feeling of her body as it tightened, climbed, higher and higher. When a hand placed itself over the top of hers on her pussy, she cried out, using her other hand to bring attention to the forgotten breast. There was a steady breath on her neck and she turned into it, not seeking lips, but connection, contact, skin on skin. As if the owner of the hands knew, she felt a rough scrape of stubble on her shoulder, and warm breath flutter over her lips, and then she was flying, her back arching even further, her hips pumping in the water as the sensations wracking her body took her to a place she had never been.
As her tremors subsided, and her body slowly loosened, Kia felt those hands, rubbing, caring, comforting her as they brushed along her skin, slid over her shoulders, up into her hair where they massaged her scalp. Moaning, she left her eyes closed and used both hands to frame her pussy, her index fingers slowly rubbing again, her hips gyrating, thrusting, her core pulsing as it built to yet another climb. She could barely breathe as she worked herself over a second time, her breath coming in pants to match the ones of the person behind her. Her hips thrust, working up and down in the water, her fingers rubbing, thrusting, enticing every nerve in her core until she felt stretched to the limit, and just as she was about to break, just as she was about to release and shatter into a million pieces, those hands left her hand and found her breasts again, this time grasping her nipples and pinching them, rolling them in between their fingers until her pleasure mixed with pain and her body catapulted off of the cliff, diving into the tumultuous abyss until she was weak.
Kia’s limbs felt heavy as they floated at her side, her knees bent to one side, her head resting on the back of the tub. When she felt arms around her and then air on her skin, she did no more than turn in her head into the source and breathe, inhaling the light spicy scent that mingled with powerful jasmine scent from her bath. There was still music on as Kia felt herself walked from the overly warm bathroom to the adjoining bedroom, the cool air bringing a light chill to her skin. She was lowered to the bed, her buttocks then her back, her legs laid out gently, and then her head laid to rest on the pillow. When she would have open her eyes, tried to reach out and say something, anything, a finger pressed lightly to her lips and a voice rumbled low and deep from beside her.
“Just feel me. Let me feel you.” Kia didn’t know if it was the stranger’s voice that made her begin to tingle again, or the fact that he wasn’t done with her. Stupidly, she had thought that this whole week would be dedicated to getting her off, to giving her that release that would finally open the gates and allow her sexual appetite to be ebbed, but now she realized that it wasn’t about release, it was about discovery, her discovery, of just what it meant to be handled. As her stranger’s hands began their second voyage of the evening—this one on land instead of sea—Kia sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and did as her stranger told her. When a hand lifted her head and blindfold was cinched into place, her pulse picked up, it’s throbbing echoed down in her center, and she realized she was nowhere near replete.