1. In The Dark


    Date: 10/19/2014, Categories: Group Sex, Author: PervyStoryteller, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    Dimly I awake. Slowly regaining some semblance of consciousness, a shudder runs through my body at the realisation that I have no idea where I am. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. I don’t know if it’s still night, or if it’s light. Nor can I find out. That’s the rule. One of the rules. I must not remove the blindfold until I am given permission to do so. I could remove it; my hands are free. But I will not. I tremble at the thought that there may be more to come. My almost naked body, spread out on a bed, exposed to anyone who might see it, reeks of debauchery. Debauchery is smeared across my skin. Is there anyone here to see? I don’t sense anybody. Where am I? I can’t possibly know. My mind grapples with the basic function of memory; the last thing I remember. I remember being carried from the vehicle that delivered me. I am sure I was carried, but whereto; upstairs, downstairs or no, I can’t recall. My wrists are sore, reminding me that I have been tied. I forget how many times during the course of the night I was tied, but I am sure I was tied here too. I don’t remember being untied, but I am sure I was tied. My arms stretched, tied to the bed frame. My legs too, perhaps. No, not then. My legs were free. I was wearing what I’m wearing now; knee high black boots and black hold-ups. My legs were held, raised, spread. I remember a stern voice. “Spread your legs!” No, that wasn’t here, that was somewhere else. I heard those words so many ...
    times. “Spread your legs!” No, here my legs were pulled into position by people I could not see, pulled apart by people I could not see. There was hot breath on my labia, a tongue teasing those folds that were by then long since smeared with debauchery. Male or female? I have no idea. There was a finger, probing me, exploring the territory beyond my folds. A finger probing what was by then my spunk-infested vagina. There was a tongue finding my clit. There was a tongue worshipping my giddy sex. I was making sounds I’ve never made before. I draw in breath sharply. These memories have caused my fingers to wander dangerously close to the hot spot, lingering mere inches away. I move my hand away. I feel ashamed. What have I done? What have I allowed myself to become involved in? Is there anyone here to see? I don’t sense anybody. I strain my ears, but hear nothing. All around is darkness, but I strain my eyes anyway. The blindfold is thick and unforgiving. This sudden exertion is too much. I feel myself begin to drift. I’m not quite awake, but nor am I fast asleep. If I could muster the energy, perhaps I could focus on nature or poetry or the state of the economy; instead, only the recent past, only last night (assuming it is actually morning) has the power to flow aimlessly through my mind. I’m in another room. I can hear voices. Distant voices. There are so many voices all night, but few of them can be made out. All is dark, but I am not alone. I have a cock in my hand. My hand ...
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