Читать книгу The Ultimate Erotica Collection: 3 Books in 1 - Destined to Play, The Silver Chain, Run to You - Charlotte Stein, Primula Bond - Страница 19

Our journey continues and I am surprised at how energised I feel given my presumed emotional exhaustion. It is as if Jeremy has discovered and unleashed a fertile oasis within my body, which I’d previously regarded as a barren desert. The pores in my skin feel like they are oozing pheromones. I have never felt this intensely alive, so sensual, so sexual, so female. I consider my marriage to Robert as a contrast and my feelings are numb, almost non-existent. But how could they ever compare to the magnitude on the Richter scale that Jeremy creates — could anyone else create such emotional seismic shifts for me? My thoughts are interrupted by Jeremy’s voice as he places his hand on my knee.

‘Do you mind if we talk about some aspects of my research now, while we are driving?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘Just wanted to check, as you looked deep in thought.’ I shake my head to dislodge my feelings.

‘Please, I’d love to hear about it.’

‘Okay, great. As I mentioned earlier, there is a group of doctors and professors from around the globe collaborating to research the connections between physiology and cognitive neuropsychology in regards to sexual activity. I am now heavily involved as a result of my research into the explicit links between sex-related issues and depression. To cut a long story short, I had the good fortune of meeting up with Samuel a few months ago in Hong Kong when both our flights were cancelled due to volcanic ash, so we had the rare opportunity to discuss our work in detail.’

‘Ah, so that explains why he was so up to speed with your work.’

‘No doubt when you met for lunch Sam informed you of their research into the female orgasm and the scientific discrepancies and medical controversy regarding ejaculation.’

I nod in confirmation, fully absorbed in his words. I love it when he is in professional mode and his work fascinates me. I can hear the passion in his voice.

‘We ended up brainstorming the possibility of developing a formula produced from natural serotonin that would not adversely affect the chemical balance of the human brain in the medium to long-term. After much testing and analysis in our labs, we discovered there are potential links between our areas of research, given certain scenarios, that significantly reduce the likelihood of depression — particularly involving the concept of “adult play”. This indirectly led us to analysing the secretion of fluids from female orgasm for each blood type.’

‘Wow, that sounds amazing.’ This is Jeremy at his best, why he is recognised globally for his research. I can’t help but be in awe of his capabilities and the way in which his tangential mind operates to find solutions others completely miss. He is always open to exploring the unlikely.

‘We believe there is another potential link, one that we haven’t explored in detail as yet, which relates to our discussion earlier.’

He pauses and I sense a slight hesitation in his voice.

‘It involves sensory connectivity, the neural pathways that may exist between the body and brain in relation to sexual activity, and the corresponding hormones secreted and released. We need to secure a Research Psychologist before we can progress with our plans for experimentation. Your specific expertise is highly sought after, particularly on a project of this nature and our review board specifically asked me to discuss it with you and assess your interest in the role.’

Jeremy knows full well that professional flattery will get him everywhere and this subject is close to my heart. He is playing his cards well and his timing, as usual, is perfect, especially given the state I’m currently in — that he, in fact, is responsible for.

‘You really are a clever man, Jeremy.’

‘Thank you, as you are a clever woman,’ he says with a smile in his voice. ‘I can provide you with more information, if you’re willing to consider it. It would mean you’d be working closely with myself, Samuel, and Ed — Professor Applegate in the US, that is — and Dr Lauren Bertrand in France, she’s a prominent chemist, along with Professor Schindler, a German neuroscientist, and one or two others from the UK we are in the process of confirming. It would involve a bit of travel, you know, from time to time …’ His voice trails off, as he knows this has been an issue for me in the past. ‘We’d all immensely value your involvement, Dr Blake. You come highly recommended regardless of your connection to me and you are the team’s first choice in filling the role. Your lecture on Friday sealed the deal from our perspective,’ he adds seriously.

‘Gosh, I’m not sure what to say … It sounds incredible, Jeremy.’ I am secretly thrilled they are even considering me and so pleased we can still have a professional conversation after everything we have been through for the last however many hours. What an opportunity, to work with such distinguished minds in their chosen fields. It sounds like a professional dream come true. I consider Elizabeth and Jordan. They are both older now, at school full-time and have their own friends and activities. I think of the endless pick-ups and drop-offs — soccer practice, piano lessons, dancing, gymnastics. Kids have busy lives themselves, these days. They are more able to cope with me being away now, I reason, and a little time away here and there would be exciting, good for me to be living my own life. Robert’s job has the flexibility to work around school hours more easily than my career. I have put so many other opportunities on the back burner for my family, maybe now is the time to finally say yes. How would I feel if I let a chance like this slip by?

‘Actually, I’d love to be involved. Count me in,’ I say decisively.

‘Honestly? Hey, that’s great! We’ve no doubt having someone like you on the team will make all the difference to the practical applications of our analysis.’

He really is in flattery mode, I think to myself.

‘Thanks, Jeremy, I really appreciate it.’ It’s like receiving accolades for years of hard work — I’m completely chuffed.

‘And just so you are perfectly clear, I’m expecting you to be personally involved in both the conceptual development of our theories and their application. So, no more sitting on the sidelines, Alexa. Do you understand what I am saying?’

My stomach does a full somersault as I realise the meaning of his words.

‘Really?’ Do I still want this?

‘We don’t break new ground and make life-changing discoveries without challenging convention, and that has to begin with ourselves. Your willingness to engage in and experience both sides of the experimentation process will be paramount to our success. We are depending on it, so it is non-negotiable for us.’

My lover has instantaneously transformed into my new boss. Incomprehensibly, my groin warms in anticipation of what could be ahead of me. Oh, jeez, Louise! Both sides of the experiment?

Our journey suddenly comes to an abrupt end, as does our discussion. I’d anticipated a much longer ride back to the hotel. Jeremy is at the door in seconds and carefully guides me out of the car.

‘Well, here we are. How are you feeling?’

‘Slightly shocked by your last comments, still blind, of course, but perfectly well otherwise.’ He chuckles as I stretch.

‘Can I take care of the car for you, sir?’ The voice startles me. I haven’t heard another voice for quite some time.

‘Of course, thanks.’ I hear the tinkle of keys whizz past.

He takes my hand and leads me up some steps. I feel him reading my face and he no doubt wonders when I’ll ask something about where we are, but I keep deliberately quiet. I hear a door open.

‘Greetings, sir, welcome.’ A chirpy male voice greets us from nearby.

I’m disappointed there isn’t a good morning, afternoon or evening to give me a sense of time. Is everyone conspiring to keep me in the dark? Where could we possibly be now? It’s all sounding very formal. I feel conspicuous about being blind in yet another new environment and tentatively raise a hand to my eyes.

‘Stop fiddling, Alex, you look fine. Nobody will notice anything.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ I hold on to his hand a little more firmly.

‘Please make your way to reception, sir. Your luggage has been taken care of.’

‘Luggage?’ I whisper toward him, as we move on. ‘We don’t have any.’

Our footsteps echo around the expanse of the room. The rubber soles of our boots are squeaking against a hard marble floor.

‘Welcome, Dr Quinn, we have been awaiting your arrival. We are so pleased you have made it on time. Everything is arranged, so please follow me. If we can be of service in any way, don’t hesitate to ask.’

‘That’s very kind of you. Thank you.’

We take a few steps as someone presses the button for the lift.

‘Have you had a good day thus far?’

‘We have had a great day, thank you, and very much looking forward to settling in here.’

‘Excellent, sir. We certainly hope you enjoy the experience we have to offer.’

I feel like I’m somewhere between being the invisible woman and the giant pimple on a face that everyone can see but is carefully choosing to ignore. Butterflies commence their flight once again in my stomach … you would think I’d be accustomed to their presence by now. The lift doors open, and for some reason I have the sense that we are travelling down, not up. I’m steered out of the lift.

‘As discussed, this entire floor is yours and there will be no disturbances unless otherwise arranged. We hope you have a very enjoyable stay.’

‘Thank you very much. We certainly intend to.’

I hear the lift disappear into the distance. I realise I’m on shaky ground again, being in a new place. I had memorised most of the layout of the penthouse suite which had at least provided me with some reassurance of my surroundings.

Jeremy takes my hands and leads me to a lounge. ‘Here, have a seat, try to relax. Would you like a drink?’

‘Yes, that’d be great, thanks,’ I say, relieved.

He hands me a chilled glass filled with a mix of berry flavours. I can taste the likes of cranberries, raspberries and blueberries blended in creamy yogurt. Not at all what I was expecting.

‘Certainly a potent mix of antioxidants in this.’

‘You are no use to me sick, Alexa. I need to keep your immune system humming.’

What a strange thing to say.

‘Do you mind if I take a quick shower after this drink? I’d love to get out of these clothes.’

‘Yes to the former, and I’ll help you with the latter.’ He sounds a little distracted, although I have no idea why. He puts my drink down and unzips and unbuckles here, there and everywhere. It is such a relief to have these heavy clothes removed, I feel at least five kilos lighter.

He assists me in putting on a T-shirt and gym pants and I’m grateful not to be left solely in the French knickers. I stretch my feet and allow my toes to sink into the luxurious thickness of the carpet. It feels good to be free of the boots.

He hands my drink back after guiding me back to the lounge.

‘Shower?’

‘I said yes, I do mind if you take a shower. It’s not time to wash yet.’ I’m a little stunned by his controlling response.

‘Well, you certainly are on a strict schedule, Jeremy, aren’t you? I didn’t realise we were being timed to the minute!’

‘There are many things you haven’t realised yet, sweetheart,’ he whispers close to my ear, his voice sounding shadowed, dark. A shiver races right down my spine to my tailbone.

‘Do you feel more comfortable now?’ His voice is back to normal.

‘Oh, ah, yes, much better, although I’d still love a shower.’ I find his thigh and caress it with my hand. ‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you to take a shower with me?’ I start edging my way off the seat.

‘No. Now sit.’ This time I am aghast at his order. His hands push me firmly back into the lounge. My mouth is open in shock. ‘Please, sit down. We need to conclude our discussion, come to some agreement.’ His tone is only slightly more gentle.

Oh, great, I need a shower and he needs to talk.

‘Fine. I’ll smell and you talk,’ I say as defiantly as I can. ‘Then I’ll shower.’ Making sure it is a statement rather than a question.

He places my drink back in my hands and shifts closer to me on the lounge.

‘You know I respect you?’

‘Most of the time, I suppose.’

‘Alex!’ He can sound so commanding with one word. If only I had that skill. Obviously this is to be a serious conversation.

‘Yes, okay, I know.’

‘I want to play with you, create some edginess. I want to take you to a place you have never dared to go, give you an opportunity to embrace your sexuality like you truly never believed possible.’

Seriously in overdrive, yet again! His voice is engaging and tantalising, teasing my sex and my mind simultaneously. How does he do this to me? Just using words, for god’s sake. I temper my breathing as I take a moment to absorb his statement.

‘We have been playing with each other since we first met, Jeremy, and this weekend has been a never-ending physical, mental and emotional roller-coaster of “play”, to use your word. Where else could you possibly take me?’

‘But you’ve enjoyed it so far, haven’t you? You’ve said so yourself.’

I sigh before answering.

‘As much as I hate admitting it to you out loud, yes, I’ve loved it. It scares me, though, at the same time.’ I pause as I reflect back on our conversation in the car and how it links to theories of play. ‘You know some psychologists believe that play is perhaps the most powerful source of joy humans can experience — as it encompasses both fun and fear. Some believe it can even protect against depression —’

I stop myself as the word leaves my lips and it finally dawns on me. I’ve been so comprehensively distracted by him that I have been embarrassingly slow on the uptake. ‘This is what you want to explore further. This is what you have been doing, ensuring I’m kept on a roller-coaster ride of fun and fear!’

‘Exactly, Alexa, hopefully now you understand. The concept being that “real” play is essentially a simulated anxiety attack.’

‘Well, you’ve given me plenty of those since Friday. So, if that is what you have been hoping for, you have well and truly succeeded.’

I can’t help but wonder if I’m still missing something … is there more to this? I feel like he has been deliberately keeping me in the dark, literally and figuratively since we met. Now he is doing the slow reveal on the real purpose of the weekend. Is he creating experiences enabling me to learn more about how I handle stress, or ‘play’ as he calls it, or am I merely a pawn in some greater game?

‘I have been involved in the studies analysing the amygdala, the cell clusters in the brain specialising in fear, and how they relay messages to the frontal lobes of the brain.’

Of course he has.

‘And I’m particularly interested in investigating dopamine reward circuits and the release of chemicals such as opiods. Our initial data analysis shows an unexpected correlation to Sam’s work from a pleasure perspective. This is why we need to study it more thoroughly.’ His comments put me on a new learning curve, his intelligence more prominent than ever.

‘I must admit I never anticipated feeling like this. I can’t ever recall a time when my body and mind have been on higher alert, or more stimulated, or aroused, I suppose you could say. I am literally buzzing inside and out, with both fear and pleasure.’

‘Fascinating, that’s great. It means it’s all working.’ He sounds lost in his thoughts.

‘What’s working, Jeremy? Where are you going with this, anyway?’

‘That is another two questions, Alexa.’

I am completely exasperated. He completely ignores my exasperation.

‘I want to play harder, I want to push the boundaries further between you and I.’

‘Push the boundaries. How much more could you push?’ My voice sounding instantly high-pitched, staccato. More questions! ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to ask …’ I trail off, not knowing what to say. He is turning me into a submissive, blind mute.

Oh, dear god. Another ‘aha’ moment … and now it comes full circle. Of course there is more to it; when is there not with Jeremy? How could I have been so naive? My thesis! He really does want to take me to a place I have never been, never dared to go. I knew I should never have given him a copy of the damn thing, I knew when I did I might live to regret it. Who would have thought it would come back to haunt me after so many years?

‘I’m going to push you, further than we ever have, but I want you to know that I will ensure you are safe, looked after.’

‘And you want me to be the experiment for your research, Jeremy, don’t you? Just admit it.’

‘Yes, I do.’ I’m a little shocked that he has admitted this so readily. ‘I need your body and brain on both sides of the experience, like I said. I think we are honestly on the cusp of discovering a cure and you are one of the few people who can help us. Your role is critical.’

‘Of course I’d love to be involved in discovering a cure for depression, Jeremy. Who wouldn’t? But I do have questions, plenty of them, you must understand that.’ A few spontaneously erupt in my brain just to prove my point … to myself, that is.

How do you want to push boundaries?

What does that mean?

What’s different this time?

What if I don’t want to?

How do I know I will be okay?

Are you crazy?

Am I crazy?

What the f**k could I be getting myself into now?

‘Of course I understand, sweetheart, and I would tell you if I could, honestly, but in this particular instance it can’t work that way. Why do you think I made it a condition of this weekend?’

Oh shit, I have played completely into his hands. His two conditions for this weekend — no vision, no questions. What has been driving my fear and anxiety? Exactly those two things! Maybe my brain is slowing down as it reaches middle age. Why hadn’t I come to that realisation sooner? He has carefully constructed the situation I’m in right now where I must ultimately decide whether I’ll take this personal risk for the greater human reward. A decision he knows I will, for the first time, honestly consider. Will I continue this journey into exploring my personal darkness with him, a journey I have never been courageous enough to experience until this point in my life? He really is the consummate mastermind.

It scares me. It excites me. Can I take the plunge? How far does he want to go? How far does he want me to go? Can I handle it? I have absolutely no idea. I gulp another mouthful of the berry drink to distract me from my rising tension.

‘All of your questions will be answered in time, I promise,’ he smoothly states, as if reading my mind.

The doorbell rings and he lets someone in.

‘If madame would care to accompany me.’ The words make me freeze. It’s difficult to decipher whether the voice is male or female.

Jeremy senses my reaction and wraps his arms around me. ‘You will be fine. I will be with you shortly, I promise. We just need to get changed. Have that shower you wanted.’

‘Why can’t you come with me? Or I stay with you?’ My neediness shocks even me.

‘It’s just not how it works around here. I promise I’ll be with you again in ten minutes or so.’

‘Please, Jeremy, don’t make me go.’ I feel like a child on the first day of school, being coaxed away from my parents by the teacher. He lifts me from the couch, holding my hands. He replaces his hand with the stranger’s soft one and I am led away.

‘I’ll be with you shortly.’ I sense him staring after me as I stumble along uncertainly. I cannot honestly say whether I believe he is concerned or amused by throwing me into what feels like the lion’s den, once again. I surmise it is probably a mix of both, which is totally disconcerting.

I needn’t have been so apprehensive. The stranger takes me through a long corridor and into a warm room. My clothes are carefully, considerately and silently removed. I’m led to a toilet and I am relieved to be relieved. I hear a shower turn on and feel the steam near my skin. My nakedness is complete but no longer significant. I take a step forward to the steaming water and let out a sigh as I allow my body and hair to run wet. I stay this way for some time until a hand stretches out my arm and proceeds to scrub. Unlike the soft, gliding hands from this morning, the scrubbing is vigorous and shocking. My other arm receives the same treatment, as does my back, my chest, my stomach, my butt, each leg and foot. Layers of skin are removed from my body and, although the motion is rough and hard, it feels good. Like it is serving a purpose. I consider yelling ‘stop, it hurts’ or ‘I am not that dirty’, but I don’t. I allow the firm hands to continue scrubbing until their mission is complete. It’s almost like I’m happy for the dirty layers of my skin to be scrubbed clean. Will this make me clean? Physically, yes. Emotionally, it barely touches the surface.

The shower shuts off and a luxuriously soft, warm robe is placed around me. I stand still, momentarily lost in the unknown world I have allowed myself to enter. I’m guided away, barely conscious of my situation.

‘Wasn’t so bad, was it?’

It takes me a moment to realise that, true to his word, I am reunited with Jeremy.

‘No, not too bad. Where on earth are we?’

‘Alexa, please, I implore you, no more questions — not here!’ His voice echoes around the room, sounding more anxious and concerned with each word.

‘Okay, okay, I’ll try.’

‘Thank you. Can you guess where we are?’

‘Not really. It sounds very echo-y, but muffled somehow. I can hear water dripping in the background.’ I hope we are alone.

‘Here, come, feel this.’ He guides me along a few steps and places my hand on what feels like cold marble. I place my other hand on it and start to slide it a little further downwards.

‘It feels like a torso.’ I slide a little lower.

‘Now it feels like a butt.’ I laugh. ‘Please don’t tell me we are in a museum in bathrobes, Jeremy.’

‘No, not quite, but we are surrounded by statues.’ It feels very odd caressing a sculpture. You’d never be allowed to do this in a museum or gallery; imagine sliding your hands over the statue of David in Florence. ‘Move around to the front.’

I shift my hands carefully around the torso and feel a very large erection. Jeez, obviously not David, then. I feel quite naughty as I fondle its length and girth.

‘Do you like it?’

‘I’d prefer you.’

‘I’m very pleased to have that confirmed. What about this one?’ He guides me along another few steps and places my hands on another marble torso.

‘This one is female.’ I quickly remove my hands. Jeremy guides them back toward the breasts, his hands cupping mine

to keep them there.

‘Is this difficult for you?

‘I have only ever felt my own.’

‘They’re just marble, Alex. Feel them, for me.’ I allow my fingers and palm to linger around them, as he stands close behind me.

‘Roll the nipples between your thumb and forefinger.’ I wonder why this is so erotic. ‘That is what I do to you, sweetheart, with merely my words.’ His hands twine through my robe to cup my breasts and confirm the truth in his statement. My lower belly grinds in agreement.

‘Come.’ He takes my hand and guides me away from the sexy statues.

‘Lie down. I need to reapply your eye drops.’ I’m lowered to a hard bench; it feels like a narrow, marble plank. I lie down in the full knowledge that I am accepting his conditions of this weekend, without the resistance that has been causing me so much nervous tension and anxiety.

‘Thank you.’ His words are heartfelt.

Once again, he methodically goes through the procedure of ensuring my continued blindness. This time, I accept my fate calmly, but instinctively, I can’t help but try to open my eyes. They are so heavily weighted, my lids won’t separate at all.

I lie still awaiting the full effect of the drops and ointment for the second time. Jeremy slides my robe to either side of my body letting it fall off my shoulders and encourages my arms to rest above my head. I know he likes me in this position, with unfettered access to my body. He slowly and methodically shifts my legs either side of the bench, leaving me open to him. It is as if his softness and intensity are attempting to compensate for his act of ensuring my continued blindness. My pulse quickens in anticipation. He lightly kisses my nipples and gently takes them in his teeth and rolls his tongue around their tip until I imagine they look like the statue’s. Oh, he is good at this. My brain clouds over. Goosebumps take over my body at his touch. His mouth continues painstakingly along my belly, his focus thoughtful, intense. My body ripples in response to his delicate caress … my skin is highly sensitive, alive and tingling due to the harsh scrubbing a short time ago. My desire for him is so acute it is as though it has been years, not hours, since we last connected sexually. I’m aware of his closeness as he lowers himself between my thighs. I am so highly aroused I could be floating on the ceiling. He blows lightly, gently and silently into me. The sensation is exquisite. Nothing touching me but his breath, until his lips join in slowly, considerately, then eventually his tongue joins the rhythm he is creating through my body. It is excruciatingly divine. I feel the rush of blood flowing and pumping through my body, swelling in anticipation as if I have never desired him more.

And then, just like that, he stops. I’m left in torment, unfulfilled, unreleased. I sense his face close to mine so I reach out and pull him toward me, kissing his lips, desperate for him. ‘What are you doing to me? Please, don’t leave me like this. I need you, I want you, please.’ My mind is spinning, my heart pumping.

‘All in good time, sweetheart. I need you more wanton than you have ever been.’

‘Wanton? God, that is so not fair.’ I actually think I’m pouting; how childish.

‘I know it’s not fair, GG, but it will be worth the wait, I promise.’

How the hell does he have the strength to impose this sort of control? And why don’t I?

His arms lift me to a standing position. My legs are quivering like jelly against the unreleased constriction of my swollen sex, and he takes both my hands and slowly, slowly edges us a few steps forward until I regain my balance. I feel warm water dancing around my feet as his forefinger crosses my lips, cautioning me to silence and preventing any more questions escaping from my mouth.

I’m now naked before him, and hopefully only him, not even a blindfold or sunglasses to hide behind, just my closed eyelids, sealed shut. He guides me down a ramp and silky liquid encompasses more of my body with each step we take. His arms lift me up and further deposit me into the liquid, which saturates my skin; I feel like a baby being given a warm and loving bath. Something about it feels serenely relaxing, yet there is an undercurrent of apprehension, foreboding. I push the latter feeling away.

‘Let’s just take some time to relax, unwind and soak up the experience.’

I don’t argue.

His hand slides down to the small of my back, gently pushing me forward until I am fully immersed, floating in the water. It feels amazing. For some reason, I have the sense that he is cleansing my body, preparing it for a greater purpose. Images flood my mind of the baptisms and christenings I have attended and the symbolism that embodies the ritual of purifying water. The silence surrounding us combined with the buoyancy of the liquid in which I’m floating, solidify these images in my brain. The water lapping at the edges is the only sound amplified. It is as if we have been placed in some form of magical aqua cocoon. Once again, I can’t help but wonder where we could possibly be.

It feels wonderful to be floating. I try to soak up the experience as I feel Jeremy floating serenely beside me in this strange pool. I envision him from above, a floating circular version of da Vinci’s Vitruvian man. Beautiful. The temperature of the water seems to be in perfect unison with the temperature of the room, creating a surreal womb-like effect. We alternate between different pools: a very hot one, which is shocking to enter and initially makes me feel light-headed, but feels sublime when my body adjusts to the heat, and a cold one, which invigorates and cleanses, making my heartbeat faster and pump blood rapidly through my veins, letting me know I’m well and truly alive. My circulation is pounding with the fluctuating temperatures and my skin greedily soaks up the minerals. I feel like I’m somehow restoring my vital balance. I’m quietly pleased we aren’t talking as the silence helps replenish my peace of mind and facilitates calm after the wild ride I have been on since meeting Jeremy for an ‘innocent’ drink.

It feels like an eternity ago. My intuition slyly suggests that that version of myself withered away when I accepted my blindness and I should acknowledge I am in the process of being ritualistically reborn. I don’t allow myself to dwell on it further.

On leaving the pools I am wrapped in a towel. What skin I have left is alive and sensitive, and this becomes even more apparent as I am laid face down on my belly. I am adjusted a little as is the towelled bench I am lying on. As strong hands begin to knead my shoulder blades and various parts of my back, I am thrilled to verify I’m on a massage table. Jeremy has certainly planned the last few hours to perfection — aside from the ‘missing in action’ orgasm.

The towel is whisked away from my body, as the strong scent of orange and honey penetrates my nostrils. I raise my head slightly from its position to confirm the sweet citrus odour. My head is eased back as my hair is scooped up from the nape of my neck and bunched up away from my body. A sticky substance is dolloped on the small of my back before the hands return and the massage begins in earnest. The gooey ointment smoothly discovers my extremities as the skilful hands ensure I’m thoroughly embalmed in the intoxicating yet sticky combination.

I allow my mind to wander, not wanting to focus on anything in particular. I know in myself that the more I consider my situation, the more stressed my body will become — not a good thing when strong hands such as these are dissolving tense muscle tissue upon contact. I try to focus on my breathing … it works for a while. My mind seeks to further unravel the need for Jeremy to have me blind and questionless this weekend. His logic makes partial sense, and I can’t deny that I have certainly experienced sensory overload. As for emotions, I don’t know whether I am coming or going … I should be relaxing and letting go, I love a good massage and this is glorious. This feels so good, I am becoming as soft and gooey as the ointment as it sinks into the pores of my skin. What is holding me back? I can’t help but sense there is still something more to all this that Jeremy isn’t telling me. It’s not normal to put relationships at risk like this for a bit of frivolous and, at times, terrifying fantasy, is it? Even if it is with Jeremy … even if I feel more sexually alive and sensual than I have in my entire life … Is our relationship about more than this weekend?

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by reality as a number of arms lift me up, turn me over and place me back on the towelled bench. More orange and honey arrives on my belly as smaller hands work my stomach, chest and breasts. I jolt when they slide over my nipples and instantly attempt to normalise my breathing. It’s only a massage, I convince myself. The hands establish their rhythm with my breath and the kneading continues, as do my thoughts.

Jeremy was right. I have too many questions; they seem to be multiplying exponentially in my brain like a viral disease. My body relinquishes all pretence of flesh and bone as the insistent palms morph me into soft clay. What could I do now, anyway? Would I once again be prevented from leaving? I don’t even know where I am. My breath becomes shallow as I consider both the consequences of being here and the reality of trying to escape. Is that what I really want? Deep down I know I don’t want to leave, I’m just scared of exploring what he has planned for me, as I always am — at first. Damn him for doing this to me; for forcing me to reach for a conclusion that seems impossible. Am I honestly this weak? All the values I have clung to so desperately in life, those that have given me stability and meaning and worth. And I am throwing them out the window for one careless, fanciful weekend? Is that all it will be? Or is this truly valuable research?

My mind implodes with the weight of my moral dilemmas until only numbness remains. My body becomes limp, there is no resistance left. I am a mere jellyfish awaiting the next current to reveal my future path. Exhausted mentally and emotionally, and now physically pliable, just as he wants me to be, I’m sure, I allow the blackness to surround my mind and let the futile desperation in my thoughts dissipate.

Flashes of memories flitter within my dreamlike state. Happy memories: my babies, birthday parties, smiling faces, my son telling me he loves me eight hundred million, billion, zillion times more than the universe, and my daughter explaining why she will live with me forever and ever and that is why she must marry me and only me. The memories of my children flood through my subconscious one after the other. Simple times, uncomplicated times, but why does Robert appear somewhat forlorn, disengaged, in these visions of our family unit? I hadn’t noticed before. These pictures make up so much of who I am, minute by minute, day by day. Yet, why does it feel like there is still something missing? Why does his body language reflect that something is also missing for him?

My internal arguments and debates are spiralling out of control. Jeremy has talked before about the possibility of me exploring my secret, dark fantasy, the one that provided the basis for my thesis all those years ago, the one I have never truly acknowledged as my own, except very briefly to him. Am I brave enough? I could never go there with anyone but Jeremy, and he is handing this experience to me on a personal and professional platter. What if I say no when it is exactly what I have always longed to experience, just to know and understand once and for all? Is fantasy just fantasy and should it be left that way, or is there a need and desire to act on it, to experience it first-hand? My mind seems a little fuzzy, meandering, and no longer able to accommodate the complexity of my thoughts as I surrender to the masseur’s magic hands.

The sound of rolling wheels restores me to full consciousness and it is only then that I realise I am moving; lying down, but moving nonetheless. I struggle and attempt to raise my jellylike limbs off the table. They are so relaxed and heavy from the massage it’s almost impossible. I try again.

‘Please lie still, we won’t be long.’

‘What? Where are we going?’ My voice sounds raspy and the words can barely leave my mouth.

I realise I must have dozed off … for minutes? hours? Surely not? We come to a stop.

‘Madame. You are awake, may I help you?’ A female voice speaks to me.

‘Ah … yes, thank you.’ My natural politeness kicks in.

‘Can you tell me how long have I been asleep?’ Hands raise me gently to a sitting position. A robe, not the same one as before — this is more velvety and feels heavier — is placed over my shoulders. I notice it has no arms, or at least my arms are not threaded through any sleeves. It feels smooth against the silkiness of my skin, with no remnants of the massage oil’s stickiness.

No answer. Has everyone I encounter been told not to answer my questions?

‘Would madame like some tea?’

Oh, tea, that’s a surprise.

‘Yes, madame would.’ The words pop out of my mouth a little too harshly. ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ I remember my manners.

‘Could you please tell me where Jeremy — I mean, Dr Quinn, is?’ Nothing. I have no idea if he is with me or not, but I don’t sense that he is, if that makes any sense.

‘Jeremy?’ I try again.

‘Please answer me if you are here. We need to talk. Please?’ My voice sounding more anguished with each word.

Typical, just when I need to speak to him, he has vanished.

Hot tea is carefully placed in my hand and smells delicious. It calms me and distracts me from my rising nerves. I embrace the infusion in the air, scenting camomile, with a hint of vanilla perhaps. I taste a little at a time so I don’t burn my lips. Perfect. The tiny cup feels like a heavy weight in my hands given the relaxed state of my muscles. As I finish the remainder, I feel bands around my wrists. The cup is taken away from me, giving me the opportunity to explore further. It feels like leather with a small jingly thing rattling above and below. They are a couple of inches long and fit quite snugly around each wrist. Shit!

‘Jeremy!’

Silence surrounds me.

I try to find where they are buckled, but can’t seem to locate an opening. Don’t tell me these, too, have been tailor-made. I feel my pulse quicken. I scan my body mentally to locate any other foreign objects and sure enough, there are also two, slightly larger versions around my ankles. Oh god, I go weak at the knees. In sheer defiance I quickly attempt to find an opening or buckle to remove. There is nothing. This happened when I was asleep?

I’m startled to feel that another band is being swiftly placed around my neck; there is a strange sound as it is tightened into position. I’m momentarily stunned, finding it difficult to breathe as I adjust to the constricted feeling. It too, has a jingly metal component, one on the front and one on the back. I freeze. This is it. This is what Jeremy was talking about. Wanting to play harder, push the boundaries.

What does he want to experience with me like this? More importantly, what does he want me to experience like this? Okay, I think to try and calm myself down, it is not as if I didn’t know this was coming in some way and here it is. It is apparently going to happen very soon. Oh, dear. The adrenaline pounding through my heart and pumping through my veins is more pronounced now than it was when I jumped out of the plane. The physicality of my emotions is as fascinating as it is astounding. So real, so intense, so vital. Am I prepared to stop now, when my response is this intriguing?

What are the alternatives? I could speak. I could scream. Perhaps that is what I should do, right here, right now … but I don’t. I remind myself that I did exactly that at the dinner to no purpose whatsoever, and thank goodness he completely ignored me then because the sexual tension was exceptionally gratifying in the longer term. I literally feel carnal energy shooting through my body at the memories. Ah yes, it was definitely worth fighting through my own fear to achieve such phenomenal rewards.

This must be part of his master plan. He has certainly succeeded in sending me into hyperventilating overdrive and nothing has even happened except for an exquisite massage and leather straps bound to my body. I love and hate that he can do this to me, make me feel and experience things I never believed possible. It makes me feel as if every beat of my heart is meaningful to my life. I will do this for him, for myself and for his research. I will be strong for him and maybe, just maybe, it may help set me free. From whom, from what I wonder … possibly, from myself …

Am I willing to discover the truth first-hand rather than watch from the sidelines of life?

I stand silently as my wrists are bound behind my back.

Still silent, as a velvet hood encircles my face.

Remain mute, as I am ushered along a corridor, my bare feet shuffling on the plush carpet. Demurely being led to a destination without force, by unknown, faceless strangers, without resisting. How many people surround me? I have no idea. I sense their energy, not their quantity.

I am forced to confront the stark reality of asking myself once and for all, if I do, in all honesty, trust Jeremy. Imagine my life without the seductive, beguiling, enticing and challenging Jeremy in it. Of course I trust him, when have I not? He brings my otherwise black and white life into brilliant technicolour. Although I’d be remiss if I didn’t also acknowledge his expertise in creating phenomenal psychological dramas, such as the one I am currently in. My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a deep baritone voice.

‘Bring her to me.’

I am brought.

Strong male hands lightly grip my upper arms.

‘Remove her robe.’

It is removed.

My legs are stationed apart.

Life is strange, you know. We spend our whole lives building up self-esteem, learning to love ourselves, educate ourselves, ‘better’ ourselves, and then it comes to this? How incredibly quickly the confidence we build for ourselves, built carefully layer upon layer over the years, the decades, can dissolve into insignificance in mere seconds.

The way people look and dress and act, what you do, what you earn, how well educated you are, means nothing when you are stripped bare, desperately naked, vision violated, symbols of slavery strapped to your ankles, wrists and neck.

Two fingers deftly penetrate my vagina so efficiently that my mind is instantly silenced and reality slices through me. I stagger forward with the shock of the intrusion but am held securely in place. My breathing quickens in response.

What power is left? What ounce of human dignity?

How is it then, that if I had a penis, I’d have a massive erection?

I have a sense of slipping into a psychological void, a place I have never dared enter within my own psyche, somewhat like I imagine Alice felt sliding down the rabbit hole in her mind. I am compelled to continue the journey.

‘Note that,’ says the baritone.

Noting … I really am on the other side of the experiment now. Who would have thought that I would be standing here accepting the violation that has just occurred to my body? Not me, not in a million years.

‘Place her in position.’

Outwardly, no voice, no sight. Complete acquiescence as I am lowered into a kneeling position.

Something long, thin, smooth and cold slides under my breasts. I inhale sharply at the touch. Like the bow of a violin, it moves back and forward across my chest, sliding slowly below my breasts, then above, then carefully and accurately past the tips of my nipples as if tuning itself to my body. The sensation is slow and rhythmic and I’m grateful I’m already on my knees. My nipples harden in anticipation as illicit shivers cascade through my shoulders and back. The bow then moves seamlessly and elegantly between my thighs, creating such a heightened sensual tension it causes me to cry out in anticipation of what is to come. It is preparing my body for imminent play.

‘Hmm. She does react instantaneously, J, just as you said. This is excellent news.’

J — Jeremy? He has been discussing me with others? Of course he has, I’m here aren’t I? I answer my own question.

‘Jeremy! Please talk to me.’ My voice escapes more softly than I expect; apparently it has been buried too long.

Finally, his voice comes from behind me, I’m relieved to know he is so close. ‘Yes, Alexa. I am right here.’ His words whisper comfortingly against my ear.

‘Oh, thank god, there you are.’ I nestle my face towards him. ‘Is this honestly what you want from me, want me to experience?’

‘I have never wanted anything more in my life,’ he states quietly, sensually.

‘Really?’ Okay, this is it. Can I do this for him, for myself, for us?

‘I want you to embrace every emotion you encounter and accept it, knowing that it is part of you, part of your sexuality. I will never leave you and I will look after you. All you must do is trust me enough to give yourself wholly over to the process. Surrender yourself to me, to this experience, knowing that the fear is worth the pleasure. Only you can decide whether we continue or not, right here, right now. Just tell me, yes or no.’ How is it that he may as well be having this conversation with my clitoris, instead of my brain?

Tears well up in my blind eyes. I can’t control the intensity of my emotions any more. Do I surrender to this innate longing that has haunted me for years and simply say, yes? Our shared memories dance in my mind. The tension. The game playing. The teasing, the tormenting. His dominance. My submission. And our combined love of these roles. So he wants to push the boundaries. Deep down I acknowledge that I, too, want to know how far they can be pushed, knowing I would only ever allow them to be pushed by him.

‘Yes.’ My decision relieves me beyond belief and I let out an almighty sigh as I finally succumb to my destiny, the destiny Jeremy has created.

‘Thank you. You won’t regret this. I promise.’ He removes the hood and softly kisses my lips.

‘I am going to silence you now so you are unable to speak. Is there anything else you would like to say before I do this?’

I shake my head. The reality that I’m willing to allow myself to enter such uncharted territory scares the living daylights out of me, yet arouses me so ferociously it’s intoxicating. He opens my mouth and squirts a citrus-tasting spray onto my tongue and the back of my throat. It produces a strange numbing sensation and I can’t help but test its effectiveness. No sound whatsoever — I am now mute as well as blind.

‘Please place her in position.’

The strong arms raise my body off the floor, like a rag doll, as I am lifted to some higher place. A platform? It’s almost as if gravity is inconsequential and I am weightless. Once again, I am placed on my knees and, still in this position, my legs are separated with both knees and ankles anchored to the firm spongy floor, thanks to the added convenience of my leather binds. Given my wrists are still bound behind me, I am well and truly stationed in position.

I want this. I need to understand where it leads me. I don’t struggle. I’m strapped to the floor. I am not free to see; I am not free to speak; I am not free to move. I am free to experience the complete and utter fear, excitement, shame and arousal penetrating each and every cell as anxiety trembles physically through my body. How peculiar and fascinating that these emotions can exist in unison.

‘There are a few items requiring clarification before we progress further.’ The baritone voice again.

I have been remiss. I should add to my list, I am free to hear.

‘Please examine her again.’

Once again, two fingers manoeuvre deeply into my vagina. They probe a little longer this time and are promptly removed. My body responds to the intrusion, but the impact is less obvious given my captured position.

‘Good, let us proceed.’

I feel a strange sense of having travelled through time and participating in some ancient sexual rite of passage.

‘There is no requirement for the subject to acknowledge anything I say. It can be verified on her behalf by J. It is, however, important that she hears the words before we remove that sense as well.’

I feel my breasts rising and falling with each breath; the anticipation as to what is coming next is so distinct.

‘It is our understanding, Dr Quinn, that the subject gave you permission to effectively render her blind for forty-eight hours?’

The subject. I am truly a nonentity.

Pause.

‘True.’

‘It is our understanding that you made her aware, on a number of occasions, that there were implications for her behaviour over this period.’

‘True.’

‘And that for each question she asked, there would be consequences?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it your belief that she understood these requirements?’

‘Yes.’

‘Finally, you have discussed our research program and she agreed to be involved?’

‘That’s correct.’

This is it, it is actually happening. I have handed myself over to him, to them. Although I do wonder why are they going through this mentally tortuous process.

‘This is truly excellent work. We can say categorically that she is perfect for our program. I am very much looking forward to analysing the results.’

Wow, positive feedback. Jeremy must be very pleased with himself. I wonder whether all of this is turning him on.

‘We must address the consequences of her actions. How many questions has she asked in total?’

Before I am given the privilege of hearing the answer, earplugs are inserted into my ears. Oh god, this is full on. Complete silence, complete blindness, completely mute and completely exposed. I have never gone into a state of shock before; I can only imagine that this is what I am feeling now. Completely devoid of … well … everything! Completely 100 per cent numb, frozen in time. There is now absolutely no sensory way to predict what will happen to me and absolutely no way of preventing it. Touch is my one and only remaining sense.

Something helmet-like is placed over my head. It feels weird, a little onerous at first, and it takes me a moment to register that, of course, they will be monitoring the neural activity in my brain. This is the missing link in their research and I am their human experiment. Instinctively, I attempt to control my thoughts, then scream silently; I want to test the device and its tracking mechanisms to see if it will make any difference when they analyse the results. This situation is almost too bizarre to comprehend.

My wrists are released from behind me and rebound together in front of me. My arms are stretched way beyond my head. No further please, I pray silently. My hips are steadied as the stretching continues and my body is then forced to bend over a spongy bar until I reach the floor where my bound wrists are attached and secured, along with my neck. This position ensures my chest is now lower than my now-protruding arse. I can only imagine my breasts dangling free as my breathing escalates, ensuring I understand this is all very real and not a dream at all. All hands are removed from my body. My restraints are now entirely non-human.

The sound of my racing heart consumes me. It pumps so hard and fast I wonder if this is it. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Am I having a heart attack right this second? What a position to die in. Before I fully assimilate the possibility of heart failure, my body bucks against the intrusion of yet more probing fingers. I feel my nipples harden and my butt jolts at the invasion. I hold my breath as they stay longer this time, apply more pressure, test and stretch the confines of their now slippery surrounds. Warmth emanates from within me as my vagina moistens in anticipation of their touch. The sound of my heart racing threatens to explode in my ears. I exhale sharply as they retract; shocked at the emptiness they leave behind.

Then nothing but my beating heart.

I am stung so hard and fast on my arse I freeze, completely rigid.

It happens again. It stops.

There is no breath going into or out of my lungs.

And again. It stops.

I need to inhale.

In quick succession, I am struck again and again and again and again. I inhale with each thwack of the strap landing across my arse, unable to exhale from the sheer shock of it. The oxygen intake is in stark conflict to the silent scream frantically attempting to leave my throat, rendering it impossible. I spasm as my head spins in turmoil.

The stinging sensation is like nothing I’ve experienced before; not too painful but not un-painful. Just enough to feel the bite on the surface of my flesh for a second or two, then just as quickly the sensation begins to recede. It starts and it stops. I am left panting, overwhelmed. Cooling ointment is being caressed into my buttocks, so smoothly, so seductively I could weep at the miraculous change in intensity. I’m already emotionally spent. Can I really take this? Perhaps my thesis would have proved a very different piece of work had I experienced this first-hand.

Then again thwack, thwack, and again higher, lower, within and around … and I lose count …

My world slides into slow motion. I’m splitting in two.

My body arches and retracts in both desperation and desire as it attempts to avoid the impact of the relentless lashes on my buttocks. I’m writhing and squirming internally as my arse maintains its rigid position as if it is begging for more. Is it, I wonder?

My hips are held firm as yet again the probing fingers effortlessly slide in to reacquaint themselves with my vagina. I feel the deep vibration in my lower body that releases a seed of invitation to this entire experience. I feel my vulva swell in anticipation as if my vagina is welcoming a long-lost friend and I am throbbing, aching and wet. I have no doubt the owner of the fingers is ensuring this information is ‘noted’, given its extended stay within me.

They leave. Cooling ointment arrives, applied with hands stroking softly, gently, my arse attempting to replicate the rhythm of the caress. Once again tears flow with the relief and tenderness of it. What is happening to me?

I’m left alone. I breathe. I sob.

Blackness and silence encompass me.

It is only now that I register I want more.

The straps under my knees and binding my ankles are released. My legs tremble and shake in response. Knees are repositioned further apart, spread wide, re-strapped and ankles realigned and anchored accordingly. Oh, dear god. Abstractly, I wonder why I use the term ‘god’ in such highly sexualised moments. The bar is shifted into a higher position, resulting in my arse becoming an even more obvious spread-eagled target, if that were possible. The essence of my womanhood, the physical entrances to my inner sanctum being showcased, spotlighted, publicly stage managed for examination by however many people are present in this sadistic audience. This can’t possibly be who I am, can it?

My heart cannot beat fast enough to accommodate the power my anticipatory arousal cascades over my entire body.

Thwack. Pause. Then a smooth, cold, sliding sensation over the sting.

Then again. Thwack. Pause. Slide.

Thwack. Pause. Slide … It establishes a rhythm my body starts to anticipate and desire, shifting itself like a ladder across my arse. I try to prepare for the collision, but am left with only the sensation of the exquisite pain before the reassuring slide and relief of the more caressing touch. I throb in anticipation of this effect. The focus shifts to my inner thighs, not as forceful, but so enormously arousing.

I want more.

I need more.

I receive more.

The combination of pleasure and pain is blowing my mind and my body has no choice but to revel in this carnal ambush.

It stops. I gasp. Given the concentration on my behind and thighs, it takes me a moment to acknowledge someone is fiddling with my nipples, tweaking them before clamping them. The sensation shoots straight to my groin. Something is belted around my waist that forces my body closer to the floor, my arse maintaining its position over the bar. All restraints are checked again and tightened, and their security is tested by my own body as a low current emits from whatever is attached to my nipples, the warm shock of it ensuring my entire body bucks against the restraints. I silently shriek at the tantalising impact. As I adjust to the sensation, it’s as if the current from my nipples is directly attached to my clitoris like a sexually charged triangular wire. The tingling warms my entire body and the pain becomes a teasing, pleasurable vibration. God, what are they doing to me? I have become a sexual exhibit, something you might see depicted in the future of MONA’s darkest hours.

The striking continues, bringing the intruding pain to the forefront of my body and mind. Then the pleasure returns, albeit briefly. Then the pain. My body allows them complete control in alternating between these extreme sensations with the flick of a switch. I am Pavlov’s dog.

It is as if my body has acclimatised to the sensation of such pleasurable pain as it takes me a moment to realise it has been replaced once again by a low vibration flowing through my nipples. The fingers reassert themselves beyond my vulva, and attach something that emits an intense vibration close to my clitoris. Too close! I freeze with panic and desire; my vulnerability is absolute. The intensity of the vibration increases, slowly and steadily. I feel myself break into a sweat of sexual anxiety. The fingers bypass my buzzing clit and spend time probing and exploring my vagina, my perineum. If I could move, I’d have collapsed in a heap on the floor by now. As it is, my body is like melting wax hardening in time against the mould the restraints provide. I notice that my body temperature is rising, along with my rapturous arousal.

The fingers are now warm, experienced, pleasure-seeking fingers and I feel my opening welcoming them in further, deeper. My mute throat groans with both shame and desire as I beseech my mind to stay alert. The fingers locate dimensions I have never found before, never explored myself. My perineum, my anus, nothing is ignored in this process. Oh god! Jeez, there’s that word again. They play and push and press and probe, as if monitoring and assessing the impact their every touch has on my body. I desperately try to control my responses, to rein these intensely sexual feelings in, but they are free spirits, they won’t be tempered. The fingers settle, positioning themselves carefully, then insistently, then rhythmically, then intensely as they set off rippled explosions through my muscles. I absently wonder if an orgasm can be forced upon you. Do I want to have an orgasm in front of others? Will I have the choice?

Oh god …

Vibrations soar through my nipples and clitoris as my mind becomes awash with pleasure and desire. My ability to control the ambush of pleasure penetrating my body is a receding black hole in my mind’s eye. Although entirely bound and anchored to the earth, my grip on reality is being diluted by the second. I sense the ominous waves building momentum over the horizon, threatening to annihilate my mind and enable my body’s ultimate surrender.

I focus.

They probe.

I resist.

They vibrate.

I freeze.

They target.

I relinquish.

They pleasure.

I release.

They win.

The next second introduces me to the most amazingly intense, shooting, powerful sensation I have ever felt in my life. It enters at the tip of my nipples and surges through my body at lightning speed, coinciding with the very lubricated penetration of both my vagina and my anus. I reel against the total ambush of my body so completely I now feel as if I have torn free from my restraints and physically crashed into the ceiling.

All concept of time is suspended; my rational brain officially closes down, enabling my sensory mind to take full control and allow direct passage to every feeling and sensation colliding with my body. I am launched into another stratosphere.

Surrender!

Freedom!

Pure … sensual … ecstasy …

Warm, throbbing vibrations emanating from the core of my being.

It is all-encompassing, wave after endless wave of bliss.

The rhythm, the waves of rapture moving through me.

I’m throbbing, pulsing … is this too much?

Can I take any more?

I certainly hope so …

Vibrations regain their intense focus in my very being, pounding deep within my core, but the ride has become smoother, not as wild and overwhelming as before. I’m not going to fall off the edge like a log over a roaring waterfall.

Eventually, my mind re-establishes itself in my brain. My earplugs are removed and the strong arms release me from my binds; I’m lifted away, no longer anchored to the floor.

I’m now lying down on something large and soft and warm and I feel like my entire body is melting like a giant marshmallow into toasty fire, the cushioning is so perfectly accommodating my every movement. It feels good to stretch and be free again.

I detect a delightful flickering across my breasts arousing me from my liquid state.

God, that feels so good.

Now it’s on both sides. I feel blood flowing to the tips of my nipples.

How erotic. I let out a deep sigh …

The flickering turns into gentle pulling and kneading.

Each nipple has a slightly different tension, different rhythm …

It becomes more intense. Moist warmth arrives on my lips.

It is difficult to know where to focus.

My mouth is pried open softly by a warm tongue. It feels familiar but odd somehow, like it might be upside down. I squirm slightly under the soft pressure but allow the sensations of the kneading, sucking and licking to continue unabated … So many tongues accessing my body — oh yes, Jeremy, this is absolutely worth it! No fantasy in my mind could ever match this reality. I find it impossible to imagine what it looks like from the outside, as the touching and feeling are all-encompassing.

All of this attention feels so incredible on my body.

As my mouth and breasts are being consumed, my attention is drawn to light flutters moving steadily up each thigh. My legs open automatically to ensure their progress isn’t hindered in any way. Oh, yes, please come in. This is truly divine.

Flicking, tugging, kneading, biting — not too much, not too little. It is so perfect, I could cry. There is too much to focus on so I just let go, let my body absorb the intensity of desire and longing within me.

The tongue below reaches my entrance. It explores my inner depths ever so carefully, yet so purposefully and intensely.

Like it is sifting through precious jewels, probing to locate something rare and valuable. It takes my breath away. Tongue and lips suck and nibble and are never distracted from their mission until the tongue finally locates the gem it is searching for. It focuses like a missile penetrating deeply and wholly and relentlessly on its target. The tongues from the other mouths intensify their response to replicate its energy and penetration.

Desire threatens to devour my entire body as the tongues multiply exponentially, frantically searching for a place to penetrate, deeper, further, harder, faster. My ears, mouth, neck, breast, bellybutton, vulva, fingers, toes, wrists, ankles, knees, underarms — it feels like no part of my body is left untouched.

My body arches violently with the magnitude of my desire. The tongues and lips and teeth don’t skip a beat with my movement, instantaneously igniting their insatiable quest for more. I need them to slow down, ease up, though I desperately hope they don’t. They quicken to the pulse of my heartbeat, like a drum beating to a tribal rhythm of life. Wild passion ignites deep within my soul and integrates with the essence of my body; we pulse and beat mindlessly as one heart sends blood flow and orgasmic lust to the farthest reaches of my being and spins itself into a crashing hiatus, like the eye of a tornado.

No heartbeat.

No pulse.

No thought.

No mind.

I plunge into the profound abyss of euphoria.

And then it ignites and roars into a violent and awesome flow of sheer energy exploding, crashing and pumping through my body as though the centre of my being is Mount Vesuvius erupting over Pompeii.

The entirety of my world bursts so fast it takes everything away … away … away …

And my body convulses as it reacts to an electrifying series of erotic explosions over and over and over and over again …

Like it has never experienced before … like I never believed possible …

Pumping, pumping, pumping through every orifice of my body, setting my skin alight with liquid lava.

Wave after wave after wave of intense sublime pleasure …

Creating orgasmic flows of energy …

As if my body has never before reached true orgasm …

How long can this last?

I release a silent guttural scream, long and hard though it can’t be heard.

And immediately inhale deeply and desperately as though I’m a sexual newborn drawing its first breath, urgently seeking oxygen for survival.

My arched back finally releases from its rigid, captive state as I gasp for more air and allow the oncoming bliss to encompass me entirely. I groan with joy and heat and freedom and ecstasy and leave this earthly world to experience heavenly bliss … I am the sex goddess of the universe …

***

‘Oh, Alexandra. You are exquisite. You have blown our minds.’

‘And our analysis.’

‘Absolutely. Beyond all projections.’

Is someone talking? Don’t know, don’t care …

I’m so very far away …

All I know is that the vibrations pounding through my body are truly, fucking unbelievable!

And I am absolutely, comprehensively shattered.

‘Alexa! Can you hear me? Are you okay? Here, please drink this.’

I can smell delicious hot chocolate. Someone helps me sit up. I am on a firm bed of some sort, with soft cotton sheets.

‘Be careful. It’s hot.’

Something touches me and brings a cup to my lips.

It tastes like heaven and its heat cascades through to my chest.

‘Jeremy …’ My voice is barely a whisper.

‘Don’t strain, this will help your voice. Here, have some more.’

I finish the drink.

‘That’s it, now snuggle in. Understandably, you’re exhausted, it’s time for you to rest.’

He lays me down again, covers me up with a feather quilt and seems to secure me in place. It’s warm and cosy and he’s right, I’ve never felt more exhausted.

‘Go to sleep, sweetheart, we’ll talk later. You were beyond my wildest dreams.’ He kisses me gently on the lips and smoothes my forehead. I begin to waft into a subconscious state … dreams … sounds like a good idea.

‘All good here. Our work is done, for the time being at least. Great job, Dr Quinn.’

‘We’ll just pack up the rest of our things and leave you both to continue on your journey.’

‘Remember, J, the next twenty-four hours are critical, and the situation will need to be closely monitored for the next three or four days. Confidentiality is paramount. She must not see or speak to anyone other than you. Our competitors would kill for these kinds of results.’

‘Of course, not a problem, I have it completely under control.’

‘Well done, gentlemen. Until next time. This has certainly exceeded our expectations. We shall look forward to the complete results. Keep us posted in the meantime.’

‘Will do.’

Doors slam shut.

I’m not sure what the distant voices are talking about as they swirl around me. I feel so mellow. I vaguely hear engines vibrate beneath me …

And I drift into a totally unconscious state.