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Meg felt cold. It wasn’t a lack of clothing or any turn in the weather, but she felt cold. Jonathan’s hand was the only contact to the world that she felt she had left, the only warmth she could feel, that she knew for sure existed, was through his hand. The late autumn breeze blew up the passage in which they stood, blew round her, through her, up the black wraparound skirt that he insisted she wore, blew through the gossamer lace underwear that clung to her skin, but for all that, it was not the weather that was cold.

This was the furthest step she had taken. Everything until now had been measured, had been discussed and agreed, even if it had been agreed that she should lose control, it had been a loss that she had foreseen, had understood. This was different, Jon had argued that through all their adventures Meg had always still retained a measure of control, Meg, on the other hand hand felt she had given up ownership of herself in all the situations they had faced; the escort Jackie, the stud Mark, the stranger voyeur that they had allowed to watch. They talked through the highs, where they had come from, what had caused them. Jon believed that the highs of submission that Meg had encountered had all been mitigated by her because of her involvement in the setting up of the scenarios. Jon had posed that her situation may have been different if the man or woman had been ugly, that within their agreed gateway of ‘healthy, clean and non-discoverable’, they had always been safe. John moved away from the argument, left Meg to work out the realities, let her raise some righteous indignity, allowed her to come back to Jon some time later to insist that he takes her to a scenario that she has no influence or design over . . . and here they were.

The knock on the door had a finality of sorts. Meg knew that there was never any finality, that she had her ‘word’ and a dark angel and she knew deep down that she was safe, at least physically. The door opened to a small anteroom and a slight change in temperature. Jonathan spoke to the man behind the grill and after an exchange they moved through into a lounge area. Jon took her coat and offered “glass of wine” in a way that Meg knew was not an offer. At first she felt a little self-conscious but looking around she saw that the few women, in couples, in the lounge area were all dressed Beylikdüzü escort provocatively and she relaxed a little. Eventually curiosity got the better of her, ” can we have a look around” she said, noticing that some couples and some single men were wandering up some stairs. “No”, said Jonathan, “maybe later, depending. We are heading downstairs, leave your drink, you wont be needing it!” and he stood up to leave, holding her arm and guiding her down the stairs to a darkened suite of rooms.

The first thing Meg noticed was a faint smell of incense, the next, that was there was a central room with a number of small dark rooms around it. Her eyes grew steadily more accustomed to the light and as she scanned the room she stopped and drew breath as she saw the centrepiece of the room. It was obvious that Jon was walking her straight towards it. A giant X of dark wood dominated the room. Meg tried to make out its composite parts but Jonathan turned her around and put his fingers to his lips – that sign between them. He stretched her legs apart on their heels, strapping first the ankles and then, surprising her, her knees, to the cruciform. The straps took the weight well and when her wrists and then her elbows were bound to the X she was more comfortable than she would have thought. She had been so absorbed by the process and mechanics of being tied to the X that she had not really taken in her predicament. There she was, stretched across an X frame, her top and skirt had been removed and she was naked except a skimpy bra, lace knickers and 5″ heels. Seemingly from nowhere, Jon produced a small sign on a bright red ribbon which he hung around her neck so that it rested just out of her eye-line.

Meg was now in totally new territory. All her senses seemed heightened. In spite of herself she was turned on and could feel the dampness building in sex. She could hear sounds, sounds of people descending the stairs. Her attention was being diverted by Jon who was standing behind her stroking his nails down her back, sliding his fingers behind her bra strap and round to the side of her breast running his fingers around their outside edges. Suddenly he dropped down placing a hand on each ankle, he knew that running his hand up the inside of both her thighs would emphasise the immobility of her situation. Meg felt Beylikdüzü escort the hands moving upwards not able to draw her thighs in nor open them up. She felt the fingers work inside her panties, following the soaked line into the gap between first outer and then inner lips, running backwards and forwards building tension, pushing her to the edge. Jon smiled, felt her come to the limit of her resolve and then he stood back, out of sight, watching her gasping, bucking against fingers that were no longer there. So here they both were, Jon’s control was absolute and Meg was at the limit of her desire. She needed to cum, more than anything in her world at the moment, it was a desperate need, up there with that feeling she got during sex with Jonathan when he refused to let her cum, where nothing else seemed to matter!

Meg felt nervous and alone but she also felt horny beyond belief, She knew Jonathan was there, somewhere, but the lack of contact and her exposed situation did little to make her position a comfortable one. She turned her face towards the sounds of people. Coming in to the room was a short dumpy red headed woman in what appeared to be a red and black basque and stockings, accompanied by a thin middle aged man in leather trousers and a cambric shirt. Meg watched nervously as the woman walked up towards her. This was it thought Meg, this was real submission, this divorced sex from anything it had been related to before. The woman looked over Meg’s shoulder past the cruciform, presumably at Jon. Jon had nodded at the woman who came up close to Meg and read her notice, “Do you know what this says?” she whispered breathlessly into her ear. Meg shook her head. “Good”, said the woman in red as she leaned forward and kissed Meg’s neck as she slid her manicured hand straight down the front of Meg’s stomach, inside her panties and along the slit of her sex – the act made her shiver and re-start the fire that had so recently had her rocking and gasping. ‘This wasn’t fair’, thought Meg, ‘this isn’t what I wanted! I don’t want her and I certainly don’t want him’ – but the woman was good, very very good. Meg was held suspended in a sublime state, just short of orgasm but unlike the desperation with Jon, this was a state that was a blissful end in itself.

The red-head straddled the lower leg of the cross holding Escort Beylikdüzü her body tight against Meg’s side without ever leaving off the insistent rubbing of the fingers of her left hand. She indicated to the man with her to do the same of the other side of the cross and before long they were both running nails across her body, licking her, mirroring each others movements. Meg’s head was stretched back a low growl emanating from her throat. She was going to stop this, as soon as she’d had this orgasm and come down, she was going to stop it! The top of her bra had been pulled down over the top of her nipples and two mouths and lips and teeth were working in unison and still the fingers were holding her just short. The man with her was not only mirroring her movements he had his left hand between the cheeks of her backside. Making no effort to enter (“thank God”, thought Meg) but stroking her rosebud and keeping the incessant pressure on.

Jon could stand it no longer, he moved to the front to watch the turmoil on Meg’s face and the reaction on her body. The mixture of agony and ecstasy on her open mouth and closed eyes was exciting him beyond belief, this woman, not any woman but his woman, giving herself up completely to what she didn’t understand but did know how to enjoy – even against her controlling instincts. Her control totally given over to him to do with as he willed. Meg aware of him through the waves of sexual pleasure and of the others gathering downstairs to enjoy the scene.

The red-head looked at Jon with an almost pleading look, she then turned to cambric shirt, “Damien, finish her off for me”. The woman removed her fingers as the man knelt and cleaned her digits in his mouth, “yes ma’am” he said as he put his mouth lips and fingers to work on Meg’s sex. She tried not to cum, tried to hear the conversation between Jon and the red-head but only caught snatches as her voice was drowned out by her own moaning and panting, her violent need for release “. . . take her down . . . release her to me . . . your direction . . . ” Meg realised as she came back down to earth that Jon’s voice had been held so low as to be unheard. What had they said?

The room started to empty as Jon released Meg’s bindings and replaced her clothes. She felt in a place approaching exhaustion, her arms and legs now ached with the effort of straining with her orgasm, and near orgasm, for so long. Jon held her carefully and gently around her shoulders, steadying her up the stairs and out of the reception. The journey to the hotel was a short one, the coming night would be somewhat longer.

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