Ciana Rose's Erotic Stories

 

A Game of Trust

Ken Delbridge

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F/m?

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I like to play a game of trust with my lover whenever he's been naughty--and naughty can mean almost anything I want. From the smallest transgression to the biggest sin, this game of trust keeps our relationship strong. Yesterday, my lover was very naughty, so today we are playing my game of trust.

The rules are simple; first, we never play at home--our game is not for young eyes. I prefer to play in a 5-star hotel room, with a big bed and a view of the city below, far, far below. It's after 8 at night when I reach the front desk of The Plaza. As always, he has already checked in and the other room key is waiting for me. Even though I am in control, I can feel my heart quicken as the lift ascends silently to our floor.

I let myself in, and the cool suite is dark. I cross the carpeted floor to the curtains and draw them open. The glittering lights of the arts centre across the park dance carefree on my cheeks. I look over to the bed, where my lover is. He has followed the rules of our game well; a crisp, white sheet covers him up to his handsome face and a simple black silk blindfold hides my delicious smile from his eyes. He can hear my soft movements as I move through the room, but he knows not to make a sound. I casually drop my overnight bag on the end of the bed and slip into the luxuriously appointed bathroom. Soon, hot steam swirls around me as I shower off the scent of my working day and emerge, clean and uninhibited. As I open the door of the bathroom, the cold air of the bedroom that greets me sends frosty shivers across my skin, the chilly sensation peaking my arousal, twice.

Guided only by the light shining into our private playground, I gather my uniform from the bag. A sheer lace babydoll and matching thong that I picked up during my lunch hour are the perfect seductive and stylish attire for this intimate occasion. I can see that the anticipation of our game has already given rise to certain expectations from my lover who waits wordlessly on the bed. I slowly pull the sheet away: he is wearing only a pair of silk boxers that flimsily cover his mounting excitement. I slide my slim fingers under the elastic band and pull them down and off, exposing the full measure of his magnificence to the cool air. His raging eagerness pleases me.

To truly appreciate trust, there must be a subtle hint of danger, and from my bag comes two items that I took from the bathroom this morning: a can of shaving cream and his straight razor. I open and shut it several times; the signature sharp snap of the cold steel blade reverberates between us. An intoxicating sense of power washes over me, knowing that behind his blindfold must be a look of total surprise--I can see his body tense ever so slightly, but his excitement at the unfolding scene is evident.

Then, I take 4 short lengths of silken cord. These are the keys to my sexy game. With loops in one end, I secure his rugged wrists and ankles and soon he is tied down, spread-eagled, with the loose ends secured to the wheels of the divan below. My lover cannot escape, and only trust keeps him from trying to break free. My handiwork done, I order room service: a bottle of chilled ice-wine, with one flute, to be sent up immediately.

I return my attention to my bound lover and slink up onto the bed. I let my long hair sprinkle light electric touches over his skin as I examine my prey like a prowling puma. Soon I am straddling his waist and I lean forward, my generous bosom brushing against his chest through the sheer lace. I cradle his face in my hands as I kiss him deeply, my tongue asserting my control deep in his welcoming mouth. I reach back and collect the straight razor and the shaving cream. A conventional barber I am not: with my thighs pressing against his sides, I inch my way backwards until I can feel him pressing up against the sheer material of my black thong. I lift my hips up and over my most prized possession and settle back down on the mattress between his parted legs. The cool cream on his manhood sends a tingling shock through his entire being, but my bonds keep him in place. My deft strokes are precise. Soon, my lover is shorn without a single cut on his sensitive skin.

Just then, a knock on the door; I pull on the soft hotel bathrobe and answer. The bellboy wants to bring in the chilled bottle of ice wine, but I give him a knowing smile, slip him a crisp $10 bill and pull the room service trolley inside. I pour a glass for myself, but before anything else, I soak the cloth napkin in the ice-cold water and wipe away the remaining shaving cream from my lover's groin, leaving his glory standing truly naked the cold air. I let my robe fall to the carpet, and my lingerie soon joins it there. Now naked, I take a sip of the sweet nectar and resume my position between my lover's legs. Using a gentle but firm grip, his most sensitive nerve endings are soon afire in a bath of ice-wine. My lapping on his crown drives him wild as the golden liquid slowly escapes from my lips and traces its way down his skin and wets the sheets below.

I have brought my lover to the very brink of ecstasy. My possession of him is complete; my control is total. I move up higher and guide him inside me. I control the pace of our lovemaking, my hips on his hips, my lusty hands exploring the familiar territory of his chest, shoulders and neck. Drawing my face close to his, our lips lock as my tongue teases him further, our bodies now starting to glisten with tiny beads of perspiration. Unable to hold back, I send my lover over the edge, feeling his generous release deep within my being as I shudder, and the waves of my own release radiate through every part of my body. I collapse, breathless, and rest my head on his broad chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. I reach up and release his wrists and his strong arms come down and embrace me.

The last rule of our game is that I leave first, and soon, I am gone. Trust is a beautiful thing, but next time, it's my turn to be naughty.

 

 

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