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Running a Baseline - a tale for a friend

The high back of the bench prevents you from looking behind your position yet you can sense you are not alone. Although curious, your instructions were terse and clear; "Sit. Wait." The room is small, what you can see of it. The air - warm and heavy on your moist, bare skin - tastes of sweat and almonds. The scent of recent sex permeates the room. You are seated on a slightly reclining black leather padded bench. One could not properly call it a chair as the seat was merely suggested by a pair of small half cups wrapping around just enough of your buttocks to keep you in place. From your vantage point you look at the end of low-ceiling room. The walls glow warmly from large candelabras in the room corners. A faint beaded pattern on the walls of fanning grasses seems to dance in the candlelight as if to an unfelt gentle breeze. The floor, cunningly crafted from tiny colored tiles, resembled a shallow pool that rippled in the same candlelight.

Directly across from you, dominating the wall, is an exquisite oil painting. A woman is depicted from the waist up. Her spine is arched deeply backward. Her head thrown back and her mouth agape in what surely is a scream. Her arms thrown up and rearward, hands frozen claw-like in a rictus of intensity. Then you begin to see more. Her eyes are wide and glittering in rapture. Her skin deeply flushed in crimson that spreads down her bare breasts. Her nipples darkly engorged, erect, glistening with tiny droplets. There is a brass plaque at the base of the frame that reads: "The Covenant."

Advancing footfalls behind you snap you back into the moment. A current of nervous excitement coils through your belly as you anticipate what's to come. A man dressed in a simple, well made, light gray suit comes to stand before you. 'Unremarkable' is the word that comes to mind when you look at him. He is not tall, not particularly short. Slim but not skinny. His clothes, well tailored, dr*pe on his average frame. His bald head cocked slightly to one side as he said "Look at you! What a beauty!" He smiled a small but sincere smile that reached up to his eyes in genuine warmth. "You may address me as 'Sir' should you need to." He reached into a pocket and withdrew a black blindfold and held it out to you. Hesitantly, you take it. It is lighter than it appeared, soft tooled leather embossed with a spider across the right side and having two slim elastic bands. "Put it on my dear," he said. Once in place you feel his hands take each of your wrists in turn and affix them above your head to the bench. "I'm going to raise the station and tilt it back a bit." Moments later you hear a motor begin a low whine and feel your seat rise and simultaneously recline backward tilting your hips lewdly upward. Straps slide below your knees an raise your thighs up and back. He adds ankle cuffs that hold your lower legs wide spread. Lastly a wide leather band above your hips and is drawn tight but not stressfully. 'Well here I am...' you think to yourself, 'suspended naked and helplessly exposed to a stranger.'

"I am here to Obey your Flesh. I am Arch-Magus. It is my calling and privilege to attend you." For long moments you are left in sightless silence. Fingertips begin to trace the line of your throat and slowly drift across your shoulders causing you to shudder in reflexive delight. The fingertips are so smooth and soft - they feel softer than your own. You also feel a steady strength and surety in his touch. The hands sweep purposefully down the curve of your breasts to glide smoothly beneath them and lift them cupped in each of his hands. The touch is not brutish, not coarse or vulgar. It feels reverent and passionate; the warm palms passing lightly on your nipples as fingers teasingly draw along the fullness of your bosom. You begin to hear a soft throaty rumbling of satisfied appreciation from him as his hands descend purposefully down your belly. His thumbs glide down the crease between your thighs and plump, warm folds to lightly spread your sex open to his gaze. His thumbs deftly caress your smooth outer lips, gently stroking their fullness. He makes a series of chiding tongue clicks "Shaved... I wish women understood the disservice they do themselves denuding their precious vulvas of their hair. It serves to adorn and protect your most tender sexual pleasure engine. This magnificent clitoris, laid bare so cruelly, is getting de-sensitized through constant exposure. Well my dear, while you are with us you will refrain from shaving - there are no razors here. When next we meet, when you are presented for your trials, your sex will be fully restored to its natural glory. We will see then your fullest responses. Today, however, is your first proctoring. I will take the measure of you ...a baseline, if you will."

As he spoke his hands wandered across your mons, belly, inner thighs and buttocks. His touch was light but practiced. The skin under his fingertips growing warm and excited. Each time his hands lightly spread your folds you felt yourself becoming aroused and wet. In your mind's eye you could see a small gossamer thread gleaming at the base of your inner lips. His rich, pleasant voice continued but you no longer heard his words as your flesh began to respond to his touch. Desire and excitement, like waves upon a shoreline, flowing deep in your belly to the rhythm of your increasing need. You begin to feel flush, breathing in short, shallow intakes of the close atmosphere of the small room. A faint, involuntary moan escapes your lips. The blindfold, your reclined and spread-open position, the constant, frank, appraising touch of unseen hands focus your mind on your womanhood and the anticipation of pleasure. The theater of your mind ablaze in a riot of chaos and erotic fantasies...

A slow exhalation of body-hot breath bathes your full sex in a moist embrace for long moments eliciting another low moan from you. ...And the next moment you feel his mouth take you in. Tongue tip pressed into your vaginal mouth, laid lightly up along your vaginal vestibule and tucking snugly up against the underside of your clitoris as his upper lip rode along the top of your clit to its root. Even your swelling folds are drawn into the slippery heat of his mouth. You are as a ripe fruit held in his mouth. He merely held you... tasting your sex and breathing in your advancing scent. You can feel his pulse sending tiny currents of pleasure through your flesh. After an eternity of seconds his tongue-tip drags sinuously up under your clitoris creating a creche surrounding your most sensitive self. You are acutely aware of your increasing engorgement... the lips and tongue forming a tight ring at the root of your shaft and swelling the head. A familiar ache begins to grow in your turgid organ. You can feel it from tip to cruxes secreted beneath your outer folds. Your muscles begin to constrict, to arc your spine and pull your head back as you rush on to climax. "Oh no no no, my dear," he says releasing your quivering sex, "not yet! We're just getting acquainted." Panting, you unconsciously pull against your restraints in frustration. 'Bastard!' you spit out at him. "That's 'Bastard... Sir! if you please" he said and playfully slapped your buttocks. "You will ASK to orgasm. Do you understand me?" 'Yes Sir,' you respond. "Excellent. Then let us begin in earnest."

Without preamble your clitoris is enveloped in his lips and lightly drawn deep and hard into his mouth. You can feel yourself swelling forcibly, growing a heat in your womb that spreads urgently up into your suckled flesh. His tongue, formed into a curl around the underside of your head, begins to sweep from tip to root and back again. As if your womanhood were a breast, you feel him nurse at your sex, treating your clitoris as a nipple to milk your scented fluids from your sex mouth. Each downward stroke pushes your protective hood away from your sensitive head while his tongue tip drags up from the root to snap the head rapidly up and down before returning to the root while the lips drag your hood back over your head. The sensation is exquisite. It is what you would do if pleasuring a man in your own mouth but now it's your head and shaft being orally caressed. Your desire for release rapidly becomes a compelling need. 'I want to cum!' you tell him in a ragged voice. The rhythmic suckling continued. 'I want to cum... Sir!' No response. 'Please! May I cum Sir?!' "No." was his curt reply. The nursing sensations returned but now were joined with a repetitive series of sucking pressure; several short, light pressure suction followed by one longer, harder suction that swelled your head, sparking a torrent of heat and that tickling sensation that you know precedes that intense climb from Threshold to inescapable climax. You are going to cum. You cannot help it, cannot stop it, cannot resist it. Unable to suppress it, a guttural howl - spiraling from low to ear-splitting octaves begins to burst from your throat...

A crisp, cracking sound accompanies a sudden almost painful shock in your right buttock! All processes of orgasm disappeared in an instant. "You must ASK to orgasm my dear," he said in a voice laced with patience and a bit of sardonic humor. His lips, again, push against your clitoral head and, almost grudgingly, part before it is gently drawn full into his mouth. Tongue tip begins to trace a circular orbit around the very tip of your clitoris as his lips constrict and release your head. It is maddening. The sensations of pleasure feel stronger than many orgasms you have had but your body is adjusting to the persistent stimulation. You are having difficulty staying in the moment... Fantasy has overtaken your imagination. The only reality you know is the mouth on your sex...

His mouth feels everywhere at once; on your clitoris licking and sucking, on your folds peppering them with a staccato assault from his tongue. His tongue dipping into your vaginal opening as his lips form a seal and he sucks inward and presses his tongue deeply into you to tickle the walls of your opening and feather lick across that erotic patch of rough skin just inside the upper wall... The effect of his ministrations serve only to intensify your pleasure but not trigger your orgasm.

"You are a Vessel of Pleasure," he all but whispers in a soft tone. "Let yourself be filled. Let the pleasure flow through you. Don’t rush to it. Don't fight it. Don't try to contain it. Let it overflow from you... Pass through you as a constant current." As he spoke two fingers enter you and slowly stroke you in firm Press and Pull strokes. A warm sensation, not entirely pleasant, is building in your belly. It feel a bit like a full bladder... it aches the same way but you know that it's different. His mouth returned to licking and gently sucking the head of your clit. The sensations inside your sex and wrapped around your clitoris combine and you feel, at last, the Climb start anew. Like an electrical storm rolling in, you can sense its power rising within you. Your legs begin to violently shake of their own accord but you barely notice it. It's coming. It's gaining intensity. You should have already climaxed... it's too much! Your mind feels like it is blinking on and off as spikes of ecstasy start to pulsate in your clitoris - you feel it jumping against his tongue as it twists around your tip relentlessly. Realizing that you've been moaning inchoately you muster the presence of mind to ask 'May I cum, Sir?!' Unwilling to release your sex from his mouth you hear and feel him hum his permission.

But still you do not gain release. A grown woman, you've been here before... Legs open, a lover hard upon you but never like this. In the blindfolded darkness your vision is becoming a fractal display of pure white swirls against an inky backdrop. You feel a deepening warmth envelope your mind as your hips rise and begin to buck against him. Your clit feels diamond hard and ready to shatter when he tugs it deep into his mouth and begins to press and roll it against the rough hard palate of the roof of his mouth. Squeezed, sucked, gently abraded... Your orgasm triggers and you hear your own screams as if in the distance.

You return to consciousness - a fact that barely registers consciously. You are still in orgasm, his mouth and fingers applied to maintain the stimulation. You feel it flowing throughout your body... Thought is lost to you. You can only ride the pleasure coursing inside you or go mad. You've never felt this level of physical pleasure as a continual series of waves. Over and over... perpetually welling out from your womb and cascading up your quivering frame to exit in a hoarse moaning cry. His skilled hands and mouth never faltered, never relented. "Ride it all the way down its end" he said gently. "It belongs to you, is always with you. You deserve to feel it all."

His mouth began a rhythmic up and down sucking over your head. A simple, steady and infinitely effective giving of 'head.' Simultaneously his fingers picked up their tempo and pressure inside you. That 'full' sensation returned multifold to you but this time was not uncomfortable... it was delicious... You can feel and Hear yourself beginning to ejaculate. A few drops spattered your thigh at first and then the floodgates opened fully. Every time his fingers 'pulled' down and outward your sex sent a hard, long stream of woman scented pleasure to splash against his chin and throat. You begin to hear the fluid spatter on the floor - idly wondering how much had to accumulate to hear it now. Every time his fingers re-entered you the intensity of your orgasm briefly spiked until his fingers withdrew again and you sprayed your pleasure again. Over and over and over... until, as instructed, you had ridden this single orgasm event to its end.

You lay panting, dripping in sweat and your own scent - stronger than you have ever smelled it before. You can actually taste your sex in the air as you begin to breathe normally once more. He removes the blindfold, "You've done admirably well for your first time with me. I thank you for cumming" he said and you realize that he is not being funny. He meant his thanks. His face was flush and his breathing slightly labored. He had removed his suit jacket at some point. His linen shirt soaked translucent with your spend. He Enjoyed himself, that much was evident.

"This will be the only time your orgasms will be this mild. It was, as I noted, an exercise to establish a baseline for your training. I trust you understand that we will bring you along at a ...gentle... pace. You will rest, take nutrition and be sent to one of our Breeding males for your first session with a Lancer. He, too, will be running a baseline. He will help determine the proper Lancer to pair you with while you are in training. He is endowed with a nine inch length and seven inch circumference... Most trainees enjoy their time with him. You will return to me at the end of three lunar cycles. By then I trust today will seem mildly disappointing to you. Until then my dear I bid you: Obey Your Flesh."

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