Fiction – Cream and Honey

I came round slowly , feeling slightly nauseous and disorientated. It took a minute or so for me to take stock of my situation; I appeared to be lying in a darkened room, strapped naked to some kind of bed or couch. The room felt warm and inviting – candles flickered around the edges, and soft music was playing in the background. Moving slightly against my restraints, I smiled and waited.

I did not have to wait long until a door in the far corner out of my immediate line of sight opened and I could hear footsteps and rustling. It was impossible to determine how many people had entered the room – three, maybe four? I shivered slightly despite the warmth, and could feel every hair on my body stand erect, as did my nipples.

As my eyes grew accustomed to the low light levels, I made out four masked figures approaching me, wearing what looked like hooded hotel dressing gowns. They stood in formation, two either side of the bed, and let their gowns fall to the floor. To my right stood two brunettes, one petite, small-breasted and olive-skinned, the other taller, more curvaceous with the most beautiful pale ivory skin. I smiled in recognition, but they both managed to keep their eyes firmly ahead and did not make eye contact.

To my left, a blonde woman with a nipple piercing, unknown to me,  stood next to a curly-haired redhead. They too stared straight ahead, neither acknowledging me or the other women in the room, seeminly awaiting further instruction. Just then the door opened again and another hooded figure entered. My breath quickened and my heart started beating faster as I recognised the familiar build and gait.

He approached the bed and I noticed he too was wearing a mask. He produced a plastic carrier bag and handed out what appeared to be a pastry brush to each of the four women. He then proceeded to produce  four pots of what looked like honey, which he put down on the bed in front of each of the women, gesturing to them to begin.

As each of the women in turn opened the pots, I held my breath, anticipating what was going to happen next. I felt the familiar swelling of the blood rushing to my pussy and almost let out an involuntary sigh. Each of the women dipped their brushes into the pots and started to paint me – starting at the end of each limb. The brushing sensation tickled my toes, and I wriggled, but the restraints that held me to the bed did not allow much escape. One by one the little pastry brushes lathered on the thick, sticky substance – on my toes and fingers, my hands and feet, then along my arms and legs.

All this time I was so preoccupied with trying to see and feel what was happening to me that I had not paid any attention to the man at the end of the bed. I became conscious of the fact that the way my legs were tied to the bed must be giving him a fabulous view of my swollen labia. I blushed at the thought of how he must be able to sense my arousal, for I could already smell the familiar musky scent of my juices myself.

His cock was already firm in his hand as he watched the scene in front of him, growing stiffer and harder as his eyes swept over my naked body, and those of the other women in the room. He stroked the shaft in the same rhythm as the women stroked my body with the hairs of their brushes.

The brushes were reaching the clefts of my limbs now – getting closer to both my naked breasts and the meeting at the tops of my legs. Cupping his balls in his hands, and pulling more firmly on his cock, I could see the tell-tale signs of arousal in the man. I knew the sight of me lying helpless, displaying my arousal to him and to four other women would turn him on so much that he was unable to delay his orgasm.

I could feel my own heart pounding as the teasing, swirling sensation of the brushes around my nipples increased my own arousal. The women had obviously been instructed to stay away from my clit though, for hard as I tried to twist and turn and maneuver myself into place to have them brush me there, they only laughed and pulled away from me.

Yanking frantically on his shaft, the man let out a series of tell-tale moans that announced his coming orgasm. Hot jets of milky cum spurted all over me, and splashed the redhead who was closest to him. The blonde woman grinned, and continued painting my nipples, mixing the milky cum in with the sticky honey. When I thought I could no longer stand the teasing, I felt two brushes finally brush the lips of my pussy. Mixing honey with my juices and the sticky semen, the women laughed and started painting faster.

Suddenly I realised it was not just brush strokes touching my body, as I felt fingers start to trace the outline of my waist and hips. I realised hands, brushes, and tongues were mixing together just like the different substances I was now covered in.They hungrily licked the honey and the cum from my body, spreading it into cracks and orifices, and delighting in removing it again.

I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensation of one mouth on each of my nipples, and different fingers probing and teasing between my legs. The feeling of both my nipples and my clit being sucked at the same time was too much for me, and my body shuddered to climax.

As the women turned their attention to each other, the man -who had stepped back to watch from the shadows – approached me again. Lifting his mask up, he kissed me long and deep on the mouth.

“Happy birthday, darling”

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