Hooked Up: Book 2 (44 page)

All About Eve
ended and I was sprawled out on the couch in Alessandra’s terry-cloth robe, my hair still damp. She was gazing at me, her lips slightly parted.

“Pearl, this is our last ever moment together. Probably.”

“Yes, it is. I don’t think I’ll be returning to LA.”

She pouted. “Why?”

“It’s too tough here. I mean, New Yorkers can be rough around the edges, but at least what you see is what you get. Here things are subtly sinister. I can’t explain it, but I feel this place is a little Machiavellian . . . sugar-coated with a seductive sheen, which makes it all the more dangerous. Los Angeles is a magnetic place and you can get sucked in all too easily.”

Alessandra templed her hands to her chin as if digesting my opinion and then said softly, “I sense you have a dark side to you, Pearl. And I think you need to be punished for being a little slutty in the past.”

I stared at her in amazement. At first I wanted to slap her—what she said was way too close to the bone, and I felt hurt—betrayed even. She was a woman, should understand, know how tortured I was by my own guilt and self-blame about what had happened to me. But then I was overcome by . . . I can’t even explain it . . . a sort of morbid intrigue. There was something fiendish and sinful about Alessandra, and it drew me in.

She continued, “Before you leave this wicked town for good, would you like to experience one last thrill?” She ran her fingers through her wavy hair. “You like living on the edge, don’t you, Pearl? Experimenting? Today on the trapeze, for instance, and all those years ago putting yourself in danger with those horny, out-of-control football jocks. What were you expecting? You knew it would end in tears, didn’t you? You knew, yet you did it anyway.”

My heart was pumping with both irritation and curiosity. I narrowed my eyes. “Where’s this leading?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really,” I replied coolly.

“And that makes it all the more titillating, doesn’t it? I know you want your fiancé to spank you, to flick a whip on your wet little pussy.”

This woman was something else. What a nerve! I wanted to laugh out loud, but what she just said was secretly turning me on. The champagne had made me so relaxed that I felt fearless, and a shiver of excitement shimmied through me. I told her, “Like I said, Alexandre would never play S and M games with me even if I begged him. Anyway, I don’t like being hurt.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We would use a safe word.”

I tried to suppress a smirk. For some reason this conversation was amusing me, although Alessandra had a dead serious expression on her face. “
We?
” I asked.

“I’m going to blindfold you, Pearl. We can play a little fantasy game. You pretend in the darkness beneath your blindfold that I am Alexandre. See if you like it. If you don’t then just shout out the word,
Sicily
.”

“Sicily?”

“You wanna choose something else?”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“You need to purge your guilt about your past. Extricate that feeling of culpability. I’m going to help you do that by punishing you. Then you’ll be free. Call it witchcraft, think of it as a little spell, if you like.”

As she said the word, “spell” Lucifer jumped onto the couch and rubbed his soft black fur against me. His tail brushed onto my slightly open robe and it touched my flesh seductively. He purred loudly as if agreeing with his mistress.

“Pussy,” she spat out.

Does she mean pussycat? Is she talking to Lucifer?

“You’re a coward, Pearl,” she clarified.

“Alessandra, I’m not into being hurt. It’s one thing reading about this kind of stuff in a novel or seeing it in a film, but another doing it in real life. Okay, I admit, I’m curious but . . . ”

She rolled her eyes. “Forget it. I thought it was a good idea . . . something to ease away your mental anguish. A way of striking out those bad dreams by administering a little light punishment, but if you’re not into the idea . . . ”

My mind was ticking over. Maybe she had a point.
Perhaps this could be the answer
—the champagne part of my brain thought so anyway.
What harm is there in at least trying? This woman is slight, not as strong as I am—she can’t hurt me.

“Okay, Alessandra, but on one condition: no handcuffs. If I don’t like it I want to be able to stop instantly.”

“That’s what the safe word is for.”

“No restraints, I mean it. And only five minutes, just to see. No kissing. I’m not gay—kissing would be way too intimate.”

She took another swig of her champagne and grinned wickedly, her full lips breaking into a smile that spread across her whole face. “You’re on.”

She glided over to the other side of the room, her bare feet noiseless on the parquet floor. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She stood on a chair, carefully brought down a long box from the top of a freestanding closet, and blew some dust off the top of it. A treasure trove, obviously unused for a long while. Or, more likely, Pandora’s Box. Would evil things fly out when she opened it? My curiosity made me sit up.
What am I
doing?

The lights were already dimmed, and Alessandra lit several candles and some more rose incense. She put on some music: Frank Sinatra’s
Witchcraft
(how fitting), and swayed her hips slowly to the rhythm. She was still in her jeans. I wore her robe. Obviously, she wanted to play Dom and have me as her Sub.

She was right; I was a sucker for adventure.

Most forty year-old women don’t go rock climbing and swing from trapezes, let alone get engaged to a man fifteen years younger than they are. And most women—period—forty or not—do not decide to experiment with a dose of lesbian bondage.

Was I nuts? My sensible side yelled at me, “Yes,” but my curiosity drove me on.

“Okay, Pearl,” she whispered, her lilting Italian accent catching the R of Pearl, “lie flat on your back.”

The L-shaped sofa was large and there was plenty of space for me to sprawl out. I did as she bid. The room was blissfully warm and I felt comfortable. The champagne had eased away the fury I felt for Alexandre earlier. I suddenly wondered . . . was this my way of getting back at him? Yes, he told me that he’d find it sexy for me to be messing about with another woman, but S and M?
I don’t think so.

I observed Alessandra open up her toy box and take out a whip. It had tassels at one end.

She stood over me and pressed it up to my nose. “Smell this.”

I sniffed; it smelled of perfume. She ran it gently over my face and the tassels tickled.

“Now let’s get your robe off. You won’t be cold, will you?”

“No, it’s lovely and warm here.”

She helped me off with my robe and stood back as if admiring all of me. “You have a very sexy body, Pearl. I was looking at your ass earlier. So round and shapely, but not big. I bet that ass drives Alexandre wild.”

“It does.”

“Tell me what he likes to do to it.”

I had let my eyes close and conjured up one of our last lovemaking sessions before my mind went pear-shaped with nasty memories. “He likes licking me there along the crack, pinching my pussy lips at the same time and teasing my clit until I’m begging him to fuck me.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Tell me more, it’s making me horny.”

“Sometimes he beats me with his cock. It’s so big and always rock-hard. He slaps me with it on my ass and right up at my opening. Until I’m so wet I can’t stand it anymore. Then he fucks me from behind until I come.”

“Do you have anal sex?”

“No,” I whispered. “He’s never tried. He’s very old-fashioned that way. He thinks men who do that must be secretly gay or something. Doesn’t understand why anyone would do that to a woman.”

“Very vanilla.”

“Yes, very. But sex with him is incredible. Well, when I’m not having needle-dick visions of that horrible night, that is.”

“That’s what we’re going to deal with now, Pearl. Beat away your guilt about that night with needle-dick and company.”

Her accent made me laugh. Not that the needle-dick thing was funny, but it suddenly struck me how ridiculous this whole scenario was. Both of us about to do this nutty experiment. I observed her graceful movements. She got a blindfold out of the box of tricks.

“Sit up a second, Pearl, let me put this on you.”

I eased up from the couch realizing how floppy and relaxed I felt. I was about to be whipped and I didn’t care.
This is madness!
She adjusted the black silk blindfold so I couldn’t see a thing.

“Now lie back,” she commanded in her husky voice.

I lay back down. I could feel the tassels of the whip run up and down my flesh, but surprisingly, it was soft and soothing. She circled my breasts, not touching the nipple, and guided it around my navel, fluttering it over my clit. I moaned with pleasure.

“I can see you’re getting wet, Pearl,” she sing-songed, slapping me between the legs very slightly. But it didn’t hurt. “You’re naughty, aren’t you? Playing around with me behind your fiancé’s back?”

“He wouldn’t mind,” I whispered, flexing my hips to meet the sweet brush of the tassels. But it was trailing back to my breasts, leaving my lower region bereft and needy for more. Then she stopped and bent my knees up. I lay there in the darkness of my blindfold. I heard her getting something else out of the box.

“What are you doing?” I asked, a little scared.
Maybe this woman is crazy. People in Los Angeles have guns. She’s a woman living alone in semi-countryside . . . she probably packs a pistol in that box of tricks. Uh, oh, am I about to have a snub-nose revolver held up to my head?

“Ssh,” she said, pressing her thumb against my lips, parting them and then grazing it along my front teeth. I relaxed my mouth. Being blindfolded was scary, but sexy.

Then I felt her hand on my wet slit, and gently walking her fingers along my cleft, and parting my lips. She didn’t touch my clit, which was begging for attention, tingling with longing. She had something in her hands, what was it? Then I felt her slip something large and cold inside me. I was throbbing with pleasure.
What is this she’s putting inside me
?

She told me, “These are jiggle balls. Don’t worry, they’re new, never been used before. You can wear these all day—prescribed by gynecologists to strengthen the pelvic floor muscles, but what I use them for is to make my pussy extra sensitive. Wear these around, and by the time evening comes your orgasm is super intense.”

I could feel the chilly metal slipping inside—alien but welcoming. I was so wet they slid in with relative ease. I was already feeling stimulated. Nice.

Her fingers were lightly stroking my clit by this point, and I felt double pleasure. She went on, “They’re called jiggle balls because they jiggle, once inside. They contain weights so they vibrate gently when you move around. You know, you can go about your business, do your shopping, whatever, and nobody knows the little smirk you have on your face is because you’ve got a sexy little secret going on south of the border.”

I moaned quietly as Alessandra pressed my clit deliciously.

She continued, “These balls stimulate your G spot for discreet arousal.” She burst out laughing. “Except, you know, Pearl, once I climaxed in the grocery store so it wasn’t so discreet. I was feeling really horny, and you know those big chest freezers they sometimes have? I’d had the balls inside me all day long, so I was already pretty worked up, and all I needed was a little nudge, you know? So I pressed my pussy up against the corner of it and had like, this mind-blowing orgasm right there in the store. Nobody saw me—supposedly—but I bet I got caught on camera. Some guy in a control room somewhere, getting his rocks off, watching a video of me coming like crazy. These little silver balls work wonders. You can keep these when we’re done. As a memento.”

I lay back in a zone of sexual bliss. Jesus, this was sexy . . . I was aroused. She slid her finger inside me and circled it very, very slowly. The balls were warming up—hot, in fact, from my burning core, which was pulsating around them and clenching with anticipation. It was true, they were making me needy. She’d gotten to me, Alessandra had. I was at her mercy—I needed an orgasm. I would do anything now to feel that release.

“Right, now I want you to sit up, turn over, and get on your hands and knees, doggy style. Stay on the couch.”

“But this is so great, I’m so happy where I am just like this.”

“Do as your told, you naughty girl. Up!” She tapped the whip between my legs and it brought me to attention.

Still blindfolded, I crawled into the position she had described. I felt really vulnerable: naked, my ass in the air. I sensed the tassels tickling my opening as she guided the whip up and down.

“Get ready, slut!” and she brought the whip down on me. The tassels lashed at me. Ouch, it stung. Then I felt a soft stroking finger sooth my cleft. I was clenching myself, and felt the balls inside me move—I was still smarting from the sting. She stroked my butt cheeks softly with her palm in circles and then, whack! Brought her hand down on me hard. I thought it was her hand . . . it felt different. “That’s for wanting too much cock at one time!” she warned.

I cried out, “That hurts!”

“So it should. But I’ll be nice and kiss it better.”

I felt her soft mane of hair tickling between my thighs, and her lips were blowing at my opening, her warm breath making me shimmer and pound in all the right places. She kissed me there. Oh God, oh yeah . . . I felt her tongue flickering at the back of me, right at the base, and move north towards my butt slit.
Glad I had that shower and lathered sweet-smelling oils over my skin.
Alessandra ran her tongue up and down and I bucked my hips at her—I couldn’t help it. I was teetering on the edge. Then there was a lull.
Oh no, the punishment again
? The trepidation was only making me all the hornier.
This is nuts! Why am I enjoying this?
Then I felt the whip thrash on my ass and then immediately tapping so softly against my clit as contact was made and then lost . . . trailing the whip softly from there up to the cleft of my butt. She did this over and over. The anticipation was killing me. My hips gyrated—my center thrumming with desire, my breathing profound . . .