Just an Hour part 2 by Ed Cantor

The Hour

The unknown variety of possibilities made pondering details futile, so all he was left with was waiting for the time and place of the hour to be announced. Finally, that question was answered on Wednesday; he got home from work to find a message from her on his machine. He could hear a playful lilt in her tone, but her words were all business. “Davis, it’s Tasha. I’m calling to let you know that your hour will begin on Saturday at One in the afternoon. Dress casual.” She gave an address downtown; he seemed to remember the street name, but he wasn’t too familiar with the area. “Don’t be late!” were her final words.

After a seemingly endless week, Saturday arrived. Davis decided to treat the situation optimistically – even though he knew he lost the bet, he was still positive he would feel like a winner by the end of the day.

He arrived on time, showered and clean-shaven, dressed in faded jeans and a crisply pressed black oxford shirt un-tucked over a white t-shirt. He still wasn’t getting any read on the neighbourhood and the door matching the given address was just a nondescript door on one of a row of townhouses that seemed to have been converted to offices. The street was narrow, quiet and heavily treed – even on this sunny day the shade gave an intimate sense of privacy..

One last check of his watch to confirm the time – One on the nose – and he knocked.

In just an instant, she was there, opening the door and leading him inside. Right there, in what looked like a kind of lobby – all white walls and black leather furniture – she told him that his hour was starting, right now. She handed him a blindfold. It felt heavy in his hands, made of thick black leather and lined with a plush black fur on the inside.

“Put it on, quickly please,” she instructed with a wry smile. “I intend to get the most out of my hour.”

He hesitated a moment, but with her reminder of the bet, he complies. He certainly didn’t want to give her any reason to think he is not going to live up to his end of the bargain. He valued her too much as a friend, and even thought of winning the next bet. He did regret not getting more of a chance to drink in the sight of her outfit.

She was wearing thigh-high black boots, fishnet stockings, a very short and very tight skirt that shone like it might even have been some kind of rubber or something. Her curves were even more defined by a tight crimson corset, and as low cut as it was it seemed to offer her impressive breasts up like dessert on a tray. Her hair was drawn back in a long ponytail, and she wore black lace gloves up to her elbows.

With a word and a firm hand on his arm, she led him further up and into the building. Up stairs, down a hallway, and finally into a filled with the soft sounds of some ethereal music – all sounds of the city were gone.

As soon as the door clicked behind him, followed immediately by the sound of a turning lock, her voice filled his ears.

“Take off your shirt,” she said, and he could hear just a touch of something out of the ordinary it her voice. Excitement? Anticipation? He couldn’t tell.

He complied, but it felt very strange to be doing this blindfolded. It was dark to him but he knew it was the middle of the day; for all he knew he was being inspected in bright light. No sooner had he dropped his shirt to the floor then she spoke again..

“T-shirt too, please.”

Thank god for the gym, he thought.

And so, piece-by-piece, she had him strip completely. There was another pause, with Davis fighting his own nervousness, embarrassment and insecurities, when he had to push down his boxers, but he was resolved to go through with it. He steeled himself with the thought that no matter what, having an incredibly beautiful woman want to see you naked could hardly be a bad thing. Perhaps most embarrassing was the awareness of his erection. Since he didn’t have to meet her gaze, he felt that the blindfold might be working in his favour at the moment.

Standing there, stripped with his discarded clothing piled around him, he wondered what would be coming next. He was also wondering how much of his hour was left. That question in his mind, he couldn’t quite decide if he actually wanted it to be fast or slow to end. Reflecting on her personality he realized that he might have never guessed any of this, but there was something inevitable about her placing herself in charge – surprise without disbelief.

Tasha’s voice interrupted his daydreaming. “I’m going to be giving you some direct commands, and I’m going to putting some things on you. Keep in mind that you will be doing what I want this hour… and that includes standing still when I want you to.”

He nodded, finding his tongue a bit dry at the moment. He could sense her close, feel her breath, and hear her motion. First she put something around his wrists. Soft, it felt like the blindfold a bit, and they way she tightened and buckled the bands, they seemed like leather. She followed up with the same things around his ankles. He had to take deep breaths as he could just imagine her kneeling in front of him to put them on, so close to his swaying cock, stiffly standing out from his body.

“Wrists together..” She sounded so businesslike – working against the clock, he supposed. He complied, and heard and felt a click, linking the wrist cuffs together.

“Ankles next, but this time they go apart. Spread ‘em,” she giggled a bit with that command, and he felt his cheeks warm as he complied. Something was being fastened to the ankle cuffs, and it was forcing his legs even wider apart than he had moved them himself. He figured it was some kind of bar or dowel, as he could feel that it was secured between his ankles. It felt strange, and he wobbled a bit as he got used to balancing this way.

“Now, step back. Slowly please; I don’t want you falling over.”

He was sure he was a comical sight, lifting and swinging one leg at a time, until he felt himself back up against something – not a wall but perhaps a bar or padded bench, just at the level of his ass.

“That’s good, just far enough.” He could tell from the location of her voice that she was down on the floor, between his legs – and the sensations told him that she was securing the bar between his ankles in place.

“Arms up, please.” He swung his hands up, freshened in his embarrassment, as they had been providing his manhood some cover. By the time he had them out to shoulder height, out in front of himself, Tasha clicked something else onto the cuffs – rope or something, he thought, as she was tugging his arm up even higher. Wherever the pulley or whatever was, it was high, and also a bit behind him – it was pulling his arms high and back, and with the bumper behind him, it was putting him in a rather lewd posture – his hips out forward, like he had thrust his cock out.

She tied off the rope. He was starting to feel a bit silly, and more that a little exposed and helpless. He was naked, spread and stretched. He wanted to get free, to see her, to touch her. Damn, the thought, if she wanted to fuck me, let’s get to it.

The sensation around his cock and balls is shockingly cold, a bit wet, and in a split second he recognises it, but he can’t quite believe it. “What are you doing? Are you…?”

“Shut up. Seriously, don’t talk unless I tell you to. I don’t really want to have to gag you. And yes, I am, so you’d better hold still, don’t you think?”

What the hell was going on? He never would have pegged her for as kinky as this had already gotten, but now she was shaving his balls? Dear god, what the fuck was going to be next? How was he going to explain this at the gym? All of a sudden, he was aching for the hour to end.

He held still, very still, as she worked. Even without seeing himself – it felt strange. There was a movement of air across his skin that was very new and cold-feeling. Despite his hesitation, he couldn’t deny that he was rock hard. Sure, she’d been holding him the whole time, but it wasn’t just that. She was making him look like she desired, and that feeling, the feeling of being desired so overtly was kind of arousing on its own.

“Now,” she said, “You are coming along nicely. Time to get some clothes onto you again.”

Clothes? He just couldn’t figure this out. Man, he’d better get some inside information on future games, because payback was going to be a capital “b” Bitch.

Continued...