Through the Hole (3 page)

But the lump in her throat…the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the idea…the
prospect
that she could possibly catch the man at something,
anything
, well…

“Look this is just crazy…I’ll hang up a picture and—”
WHUMP!

That’s the straw that broke the camel’s back though…finding another piece chipping away as she reached up and began tugging at the smaller pieces, leaving a crumpled pile of white dust atop her bedframe and most of her pillows.

“Fuck it!” she exclaimed to nobody but herself, and finally gave into her inclinations as the woman carefully chipped away the pieces until the ‘perfect hole’ was finally formed. The cracks weren’t an issue around it; she could paint over them without anyone ever noticing, and still hang a picture up during the day.
I needed to add color to my bedroom anyway.

So as she finished dusting the pieces away, the woman finally peered through the looking glass…and what she saw not only made her nipples perk, but it caused her to gasp as she was suddenly swept away in a torrent of mixed feelings that often only came when she was drunk.

Oh, she remembered that man so clearly…but his naked body, she could only put bits and pieces together from her naughty imagination, and nothing compared to him standing in full, naked glory—a ball gag in his mouth and a leather contraption over his chest, and yet he was allowed to move freely.

At first she suspected the man (Let’s call him Mr. X), was the slave in this bondage scheme—and given the changing décor: the soft neon lights, the harsh contrast between light and dark motif, he was a fan of old fashioned wood instead of the steel you usually saw in most of these ‘scenes’…a modern age medieval dungeon chock full of hanging whips and sexual devices, all of which looked ‘custom made’.

Mr. X looked originally as though he were the man acting as the slave, his body completely nude, save for the items described. But why have his own ball gag in place if he seemed to be acting the part of dungeon master?

…But he wasn’t…she caught sight of something black and fast-moving in her vision, just as a riding crop struck out against
—
in all unlikely places
—
his groin. It is only then that she realized he stood fully erect now in his steadfast posture.

No, he wasn’t standing…God, how could she not see it before? She was so enraptured with the strong colors and his naked body she didn’t note the two black strips over his wrists, and along his ankles. He was strapped vertically to a table! And he groaned aloud each time as that riding crop struck him down below, his head whipping from side to side in a frenzy as she began, this unspoken woman who Mar couldn’t quite see.

Something was blocking her full vision.

This isn’t right. You shouldn’t be—
“Oh shut up!” she snapped, and then slapped her hands over her mouth as she quickly glanced through the hole again. It wouldn’t appear that anyone heard her speak, though there was a moment of stillness that followed before the panting and groaning began in earnest.

That still doesn’t explain what I was hearing earlier, or why there are cracks in my drywall.

It might have been something from earlier…at this point Mar realized that she was too enthralled in what was going on to care as she waited for a handful of heartbeats before trying to remove the obstruction which seemed to be blocking more than half of the hole.

She stuck her finger in—
another strike, another soft WHUMP as she could hear Mr. X scream again—
and reached forward as far as she could, but couldn’t quite reach it…everything else in the hole seemed smoothed out, almost as if something used to go in the grooved indent but was long since removed.
Perhaps a carpenter made the mark when first building this place.
Not unheard of, but it would explain why the hole formed so perfectly—there was no additional support in the spot, so either something was here and rattled about with enough force to crack the wall open, or else the structural integrity just was too much.

Still, she was unable to stick her fingers in further, and the hole on the other side was still substantially covered, keeping her from a ‘full’ view of everything going on. She still couldn’t make out the other woman in the equation.

Mar climbed down off the bed in a sudden haste, realizing all too impartially that what she was ‘planning’ on doing was bordering not only breaking her own deal and being out fifty bucks, but also in invading a man’s privacy in his own home.
And I don’t fucking care, not a single bit. If he didn’t want people watching him he shouldn’t be doing that right across the way from me, and he shouldn’t be making holes in my apartment!
She justified as she dashed into the kitchen and began scattering and sorting through all sorts of cookery and kitchen utensils about.

Eventually Mar came across one piece that she was SO happy she kept around—a metal skewer with eye hole at the tip. She had it around last time her folks were visiting from out of town, and they opted for a traditional turkey dinner one month early since Marissa wouldn’t be able to make it out to see them on actual Thanksgiving week.

It was sharply pointed, but it was sturdy and long enough she felt that it would be perfect in suiting her goals.

“Right…so let’s get to it.”

She dashed back into the bedroom just as another dull
WHUMP
sounded out, and climbed back onto the bed as she was sure to shut off her bedroom light this time—
no need alerting the authorities next door to my activities—
as she peered slowly, carefully through the hole. The man was no longer strapped in, he seemed to be removing the ball gag from his mouth, however, his raging hard-on was still ever present.

God…just to feel that inside of—
she kept herself on task though, and carefully began reaching through the hole with the turkey skewer, gripping the pointed end so that she could use the eye hole to effectively lasso the missing piece and drag it inward.

It took some time to find how far she needed to go though, and in fact had to use two fingers holding delicately to the tip to actually reach out before she
felt
anything grazing even the barest tip.

Just a little more…oh come on just break off already—Snap!—Oh darn…
She broke off a chunk as she attempted to get the eyepiece around the side of the crack, but only succeeded in taking the same chunk off and breaking it
outward
instead of inward.

For a moment Marissa was stuck poised, like a deer caught in oncoming headlights, and she was just waiting for the ample moment when the vehicle struck head-on.

She almost forgot she was still holding the turkey skewer, and quickly retracted it as her head shot back and forth between the hole, and her living room. The concern was that if they heard that they might be able to see Marissa through the hole if there were a light on in the hall.

She almost fumbled to place her hand over the hole in a temporary fix to her problem, but it was too late…poised and steadfast, her heart absolutely skipped a beat when she caught that gorgeous baby blue eye staring right back at her for what felt like an eternity, able to see every little contour of that glowing iris from the small distance due to the odd lighting scheme playing out.

Marissa was frozen…
What do I do? I’m so fucking busted right now…! But he was the one that made the hole in the first place. Okay Mar, if they ask we just say ‘he broke the wall’ and we were just examining the damage when we caught sight of what was going—FUCK! He’s still looking!

Finally Marissa couldn’t take it anymore and she ducked down low, her hands planted against the wall as she didn’t even bother to try and sweep away the dust on her pillow before getting it all over her.

…
Is he gone? How the fuck should I know?!
Slowly, carefully, as though every fiber of her being could cause a single bit of noise and wake the sleeping bear…the woman was very gradual to rise back up to her feet, and when she reached the hole again she noted he was long gone. Well, not
long
gone, but he was no longer staring through the hole anymore.

Maybe he didn’t see me…
she mused quietly, her brow slightly furrowed.

Without thinking, she leapt from the bed with haste, trying to keep her bare feet from stomping too loud and realizing to only slight dismay that her business attire was slightly ruined along the skirt and sheer hose she wore. She practically tore those items from her body, as well as her simple but sleek business top as the air seemed to grow substantially more ‘stuffy’ inside.

The rush left a trail of clothing scattered from one end of the hall to the other, giving her a chance to slap the lights off in the hall as soon she was diving back onto her slightly dusty bed in nothing more than a bra and her white matching panties. Not the most dignified, but given the flush she felt to her cheeks, the soft breeze wafting through and striking her naked form was more than just an ‘absent’ comfort.

God, why am I getting worked up over just one guy?
Because he’s fucking hotter than sin, and apparently kinkier than any guy I’ve ever been with before.
The very idea had her curling her bare toes until they were gripping at the covers of her bed, her whole body in a slight tingle. Whether she was imagining herself as the one strapped to that table, or him, she still wasn’t sure…never really had a chance to explore
that
kind of life. Oh sure she saw movies, and even read the occasional erotic story…but who really
did
that kind of stuff? She still couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea of some underground world of fetish based sex, and yet here she was; standing almost two items shy of her full birthday suit, staring through a hole in her wall at a man who was naked save for leather straps and a ball gag, possibly ready to fondle her own self
despite
the fact that she probably got caught.

“Oh…come on dude! You didn’t see anything, nothing at all just…PLEASE!” slapping her hands over her mouth as she realized she needed to shut the fuck up, lest she sell herself out any more than she had already.

When nothing happened Mar could actually feel a dull ache coming from down south. It was a strange feeling, mainly because she never actually
felt
anything until she was on her tenth drink and some guy was trying to demonstrate his ineffectiveness at feeling her up. But now, standing here, like this, Marissa actually had a longing building up inside, up to the point that she couldn’t control a soft groan, a whimper maybe, that passed her lips when staring now at the wider hole, she still failed to see anything even remotely related to a good time…a show, maybe another crop whip popping out and giving a final lash at the man across his genitalia.

Just about to give up in a slight whimper—her hands unknowingly reaching down between her thighs, rubbing softly but firmly along such familiar regions—she stopped dead. Paused…her nipples suddenly erect beneath her bra and feeling a sensitivity that caused her body to softly twitch at the slightest bit of movement.

He came back. She couldn’t tell if he was looking at her at first, but it was apparent that whatever happened before, whomever was ‘looking’ back at Marissa seemed almost entirely unfazed by it, and in fact it seemed to cause a new, unbridled fire as the man was thrown firmly against the stocks, his ankles and wrists once again finding those familiar straps wrapping about them.

Something new emerged though… new and unexpected. His attire changed, and he had something fitted—similar in design to the leather straps wrapped about him before—around his lower half. She couldn’t quite make it out at first, but when the table he was strapped to went from vertical to horizontal, and Marissa positively gasped…fingertips finding their way under the hem of her white cotton panties and feeling along her naked crest…as she caught the apparatus now in full strength. The design seemed almost ‘sinister’ in nature, like a creature swallowing his penis whole. There were cords attached to it now, and she couldn’t tell if he was still erect, the way the device stood straight out and angled just slightly, possibly to cater to the length of his own shaft.

She still wasn’t sure what it did in full, but those two wires running the length to an unknown outlet or device somewhere had her imagining it was probably electrical. Maybe he enjoyed shock treatment? Not likely—the device was obviously on as the man was writhing in his bondage; shaking and shuddering, groaning insufferably into his gag as the agony he felt was obviously a mixture of arousal and possibly even pain.

And then came his would-be temptress…finally she caught sight of the woman, this blond haired dominatrix dressed in all leather from head to toe in what looked like a full bodied latex outfit. She slapped him over the device on his groin once, hard, and even Marissa snapped slightly with a shudder as she caught the man’s groan lacing out. Oh he was in agony…no chance at screaming, pleading for any kind of relief. And then she slapped again, only this time the crop went higher and touched over one nipple.

Multiple smacks, all with a deadly precision that hit their mark, and Marissa was suddenly delving her fingers deep inside that crest. She was beyond fondling now…that she knew. Something about the whole scene unfolding seemed to be exciting the fires of passion deep down, and Marissa was becoming drunk with the same fitting arousal that her bound friend there probably, obviously felt.

“Oh my God…” she whispered quietly as her own fantasy came to an end, realizing where she was again, and what she was doing.
I’m practically dripping…
She groaned out loud, her fingertips still pressed inside from one hand, while the other diligently held to the wall for support. It almost felt shameful—disgraceful! She stopped at once, looking between her panties and her hand, her unfinished business having been ‘left alone’ intentionally, making for quite the epic battle to be played between her senses, and her waning libido.

Does this technically count as a forfeit to our wager?
Marissa thought to herself, her friend Jessica who could smell sex a mile away, even longer. Didn’t matter if it was one-handed or with a dance partner, somehow Jessica always knew…