82In which I get into a slight amount of trouble
I was sitting at my desk; therefore, I was reading quietly and I did not hear him enter. I did not realise I was under attack until I felt his hands capture my shoulders and felt my slim body wrenched from the chair and onto the floor. I tried to call for help but instead I found my mouth pressed into the carpet and my voice muted inescapably. Rough hands covered me, pushing me into the ground and though my knees were still squeezed beneath me, my chest and face were thrust into the floor.
I tried to resist and straighten my form but his body, heavy hard, imprisoned me against his terrible strength. A rope found its way around my wrists ensnaring my hands and joining them to the leg of the table and his pelvis boldly rocked against me. I felt his hands push up beneath my shirt and vest pulling the garments off my chest and over my head, limiting my already limited mobility. His fingers danced a delirious delight across my skin as he slipped his arms around my chest. His hands massaged the slender body he had so effortlessly secured and when I moaned in undeniable desire he chuckled and leaned down to kiss the base of my neck.
Whether it was because of the fabric casing around my head or the surging of lust pulsing through my body as a result of the rough treatment, my breathing became fast and shallow. Shiver is not strong enough to describe the shake that went down my spine when his hands slipped in between my knees and licked at the bindings of my trousers.
His skin laced over my skin and pushed my clothing away, trapping the fabric at my knees and not allowing me to straighten my crouched form. I gasped from fright and shock when his fingers traced down my spine and continued to follow that path, dipping in-between my legs and tickling tenderly. His heavy form crushed over me as he kissed my bare skin, his tongue and lips enchanting my flesh. I felt his naked chest rub against my body as he curled around me, a fragile eggshell of a man.
A wave of heat coursed through our bodies when he bared his groin and laid his powerful erection over my back, simply pressing into my spine as if to reassure me of his size and length. He began to rock his hips, sliding it up and down my bending back to show me how he intended to use my helpless form and perhaps to condition me to the feel of his large body...
When he surged into my tight form...
Well honestly I don't know. Generally, I woke about this time. And it's a damned shame too. I should like to know what the feeling is like, being a man damned in virginity. It's rather difficult to complete such a dream. That one was a re-occurring fantasy. It begins with me reading- not an altogether unusual occurrence; reading entertains me more than the technologies that harass my peers and the activity amuses me more than the conversation of a society that has retrogressed back into Victorian ideals from the glorious hey day of sexuality brought on by that distant haze of destruction called America. What an awful run-on. I ought to correct it but I don't really care; I'm talking about my fantasies and can't be bothered to edit.
I don't know where the fantasy comes from. I surely had never been bound a day in my life. I suspect it's dark and I can't see my invisible male because the showing of skin is not very approved of in my society and I have never actually seen a living man naked. Pictures of Greek statues, heavily censored, are the closest things I have to compare my own weak body too.
Also this, I know my desk is not in my own native England when I am so "terribly" attacked but in America. I was having that dream long before I even thought about leaving the nasty damp place that spawned me and travelling into the treacherous land of the self-destructive. But it didn't take much to persuade me to leave. America's reconstruction was still a novelty to the civilised world in those days and Cynthia... well perhaps I had better start at a different spot... Just wanted to get your attention really.
I was not an only child, and though I probably would have made the perfect son being a studious, athletic, and innately curious fellow, there was a slight problem with my sexuality that I had revealed to my parents to their great vexation. I was immediately sent to doctors, surreptitiously of course, to see if they could cure the dilemma that I had become. None of their tortuous techniques really changed all that much about me.
Well, I can't say it was really torture… some of the doctors were quite nice and rather handsome and it was their job to arouse me… of course it was also their job to punish me for being aroused. Oh, who am I trying to convince? It was hell. Anyone who's had a rubber tube filled with mercury lassoed around his penis to gage how excited he was could tell you there's no hell like involuntary exhibition. Eventually, I mastered myself enough to fool their nasty equipment and the doctors announced me cured; declaring my treatment a phenomenal success, due in part to my prudent honesty and the wise preventative measures my parents had taken so early. Thus, vowing a life of celibacy, I was returned home... That didn't work out to well either... the most damaging blow to my families' reputation regretfully came from me. Actually, it was probably because of that incident that I came to America and to the life that I had always longed for.
It was a party of some sort. Convincingly, I danced with more than enough girls, before retiring to the conversation of the cigar chambers. It wasn't such a horrible fate, many of the older men were comfortable enough to open their shirts and in most cases there was a tantalising line of hair peeking out near the lowered material. After being harassed by so many perfumed gigglers through out the night the cigar chamber was always rather... stimulating.
All may have gone well if it wasn't for that servant. To tell the truth I don't even know his name. He was older than me. Not as old as the men I would sit back and fantasize about as we argued of politics and the worthlessness of foreign economies, but older than me. I caught myself staring at him as he served drinks and cleaned out the cigar ashes. He wasn't the most handsome thing I ever imagined but still good-looking. He smiled at me and I turned into butter, melting inside a room that suddenly had far to many people. I don't know if anyone noticed my state, after all I was used to a penile strain gauge creating an alarming buzz.
When he left the room, I made the mistake of following him. He was expecting me and I practically danced with him into the empty room he suggested we visit when our lips finally untangled.
What I felt of his body was magnificent; the thick mattress of hair on his chest was the same dark shade as the glorious locks darting into his eyes. I never got the chance to remove his shirt completely, but I knew he must have done some hard labour because his body was dangerously chiselled. His hands were so callused and gloriously rough. So gloriously different than my own form. My family has never been known for height and as much as I enjoyed sports, mostly for the hidden opportunities to fantasize that they offered me, I could never have built my slim womanish form into the Hellenistic beauty I held at that moment. What I remember most was my eagerness to see him unclothed. As I've mentioned, I had never seen a man naked… inundated with images of the female nude but no such luck with the sex of interest…
And I still remember the sensuality of his coarse accent whispering to me... I was his fantasy as much as he was mine. As he removed my clothes, he assured me that he'd always wanted someone like me, slender and nearly feminine...lithe and soft... someone above him in station dying to be beneath him in bed.
I can't think of anything that should have interfered with either of us achieving our fantasies until... oh disastrous. I almost can't write it down, the situation sickens me so much.
Apparently, my would-be lover and I had stumbled into the room where they were storing the coats and unfortunately the family on their way out contained a rather terrifying gossip, a politician, and their two daughters, both of whom had recently left their mark on my feet while dancing. One of the girls screamed and fainted, the other giggled fiercely, assessing my naked body with smug interest. The mother wailed with agony as if we had plucked her eyes from their sockets and spun away while the father blushed a dark shameful red and began to stutter for words. My unnamed partner fled, vanishing through the window before he could be identified and punished. As for me… I dressed quickly and waited dismally for my family to be notified and our fashionably electronic carriage to carry me away from utter humiliation and into deeper misery.