Shackles (Entraves)

photo Cathy Peylan


Everything’s red here.
Garnet red, wine, black velvet with scarlet reflections under the neons.
A nameless bedroom, unknown, one more down the endless list. She brought me here, in this windowless apartment. I usually take them home – without even giving them my name – undress them, give them what they want and throw them out when I’m done. It’s pathetic, and yet necessary to make me feel alive. But this time I found myself too far from home, each of my steps in pace with the sound blasting from my earplugs, up to an unknown tiny nightclub. That’s where I saw her, and threw in my well-known Lothario gaze. She took the bait. But I was the actual prey. She just said “come with me, I live right upstairs”, and I followed.

She discarded her crimson scarf over her bed and smiled at me. She was glowing, even in the darkness of the room. Her long black hair fell down her back like a heavy curtain – much like the ones at the theater – unveiling her porcelain skin, like an empty stage, with every step she’d take.

“Don’t move.” She ordered with the deep husky voice that was hers, and a tone that left no room for an answer. Once again, I obliged her. I was off character. I was enthralled by her lips to submissiveness.

Her dark stared dived into mine, she shamelessly took off her blouse with elegance, freeing her bare heavy breasts I couldn’t wait to feel in my palms. But she threw me a glare of disapproval the second I took a step in her direction. The rules were clear now. I wasn’t to move. Just watch. Admire. Stare as much as I could. The predatory character that I was had been turned into a constraint and yet consenting peeper.

Her long skirt slowly fell down her round hips, revealing a bottom that was beyond all hopes and bore slender thighs. I looked away for a second, feeling uneased without really knowing why. But she waited. She waited for my eyes to fall back on her before proceeding. She stared at me from the edge of the bed. Her legs were barely apart, but she still offered me a sight of her smooth slit that her fingers couldn’t conceal. No, she wasn’t hiding anything. My cheeks reddened and my eyes couldn’t look anywhere else but at the naked beauty in front of me who was staring back at me as she was touching herself. Her fingers that skillfully moved around her clitoris had me hypnotized. I wouldn’t dare to move. Everything in the room seemed turned upside down, everything escaping my grasp, and it was definitely not how things used to go. I used to have control. I freaked out. She must have noticed because her fingers froze. She stood up and came inches away from me, so close that her hot breath was like flames licking my lips.

“I’ve been seeing you around. Every night with a different girl, why?” Her question ad her tone that meant no blame took me by surprise. I could have handled reproach, but how could I answer that? I didn’t know how to respond to this girl, exposed in front of me, who somehow expected me to strip me off my soul and bare it naked before her.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m looking for something…”

“Have you found it yet?”

“No. Not yet.”

“You know what? I think you’re looking for something to feel. But you’re not looking in the right direction.” She mused.
I didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. It was breaking the mood. The fire between my legs was already starting to extinguish. Her emerald eyes were scanning my face and then a smile came to her lips. She was obviously toying with me but I didn’t want to make a scene and go slamming the door on her face. For a moment she looked like she was gaging me, as if she wanted to give me something but was still pondering if I was worth giving it to.

“What’s the right direction?” is all I managed to say. Words were not enough to explain it all. She grinned at me in understanding.

She grabbed my hips and pulled me over, her warm body colliding with mine in a perfect contrast and then her luscious lips closing the gap that separated us. She devoured more than she kissed, biting my bottom lip, invading my mouth with her silky tongue. Wild. She reached for the crimson scarf and blinded me with it, tying it around my head with the confidence she had been showing so far.

I felt her hands on me, their touch roaming my body like there were an infinity of them. Some of them were tearing my shirt off and sending buttons flying across the room, others doggedly fumbling with the belt of my jeans. Every bit of exposed skin was greeted with hot wet lips and jet-black hair that tickled when they’d brushed by. I shivered when she got rid off the last bit of clothes that was still covering me and unceremoniously shove me towards the bed. I let myself fall, leaving behind every ounce of free will and reason, along with every piece of clothes that now laid on the floor, scattered and useless. The exhausting turmoil in my head quietened and for the first time in years, a thrill ran down my spine.

She bent over me and I tried to seize between my teeth the evading nipple that kept hovering above my head. She stopped me and grabbed my wrists to tie them to the bed pole with the straps that were already fixed. Her hands ran down my extended arms, tracing the lines of my ribs, the curves of my hips, and feeling the skin of my legs down to my heels which she constrained too. My body completely stretched out, I was the perfect image of lechery. I wasn’t at the wheel anymore. She was. And it filled me with a newfound pleasure, the feeling of letting go, and giving in. All I could hear was her breathing, and I waited, my senses sharpened by the imposed blindness and a wave of lust setting fire down my crotch.

A finger. Just one. Twirling around my right breast’s nipple and grazing it at times. She pinched it between her thumb and index, taking me by surprise. An intense rush of arousal came over me. She applied more pressure, an unbearable pleasure. Her mouth came ravishing my left breast, my nipple hardening between her teeth. When she let go, I stuck out my chest, begging for another assault of her mouth. Having no release was excruciatingly good.

I was feeling myself get more and more wet with every thrust, my sex throbbing, craving for something to fill it. She continued, cupped my breasts and started massaging them forcefully, biting them, taking them whole in her mouth, pushing me a little closer towards the climax I wished she wouldn’t refuse me. My body arched, begging for more, harder, faster. She had me powerless, at her complete mercy. She was the sole mistress of this game and not a single one of my demands for a fast ending seemed to phase her.

She moved back up to my bounded wrists, untied the straps from the bed poles and helped me up, as I was still blind and shaking. She lifted my arms up and I felt cold metal in a round shape under my fingers. I held on to it while she attached my wrists straps again. I was now standing on the bed with my arms over my head, unbalanced, and my mind was instantly perverted with new fantasies. What would she do? How? The anticipation was already igniting a scorching desire running down my thighs.

Her hand dropped down my bottom cheeks, rubbing them gently, only to slap them hard seconds later. Once, twice, ten times. The repeated smacks were fast and cautiously administered with the tip of her fingers. My ass reddened from the spanking. There was no real pattern in the lashes, every break only rejuvenated my excitement for the next smack. When would I feel her fingers on my skin again? Where? Ignorance was translated into a fundamental erotic art. The craving rose up in me and kept growing, fueled by what I confusedly desired and the pretended fear that came with role playing. My cheeks were now covered with red marks, radiating with an unprecedented hunger, I who’d usually never feel a thing. Scarlet words came tumbling out against my lips, but all that escaped them were loud moans. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was liquefying. If my convictions wouldn’t have been so deeply rooted, I might have screamed at her “Please make me come!” or “Fuck me hard!”

When the spanking finally stopped and she laid her chilly lips on my blushing skin, I nearly fainted. She poured icy water down my back, freezing the now sensitive hand imprints on my ass, and proceeded to lick the remaining drops all the way down my spine. I groaned and whined, spreading my legs, desperately aching for her experienced touch.

That’s when she unexpectedly inserted one stiff finger inside my swollen pussy, only to withdraw it abruptly. The cry that resulted from it came out as a mix of pleasure and frustration. She then pinched my clitoris hard between her thumb and index and quickly released it. I had reached my limits, panting. My body seemed ready to give out under me at her next move. She waited, standing still in front of me, as if this were her last torture to my unruly gluttony. I felt her fingers teasing my slit, as if they were savoring these final moments before parting. They dived inside me, strong and numerous.

In an infinite exudation, a radiant exhilaration, I came on her hand. All that’s left of me was a puddle when she delicately untied me and helped me lay down on the cool sheets. I didn’t have enough strength to utter a single word. What was there to say anyway? I still didn’t know her name.

By Trinity
Translated from the French by IMNSX
Picture by Cathy Peylan