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Behind the flickering candlelight, something stirs in the darkness. Hungry whispers call to me. I shake my head, slowly growing aware of my surroundings. Where am I? Why am I? Then I remember! They have me suspended in a leather harness, hanging in the gloom, my body supported in a truss, my arms and legs spread wide. I can see nothing past the circle of candles. I want to scream. They may hear my yells but no one will answer. No one will help. They never do. My comfort is not their concern. Nor are my wishes. They ignore my pleas, these invisible people, yet I know they are there, waiting. They whisper, they murmur in tongues strangely familiar yet beyond my comprehension. I endeavour, but can never quite fathom what the voices say. Sometimes I catch a word, a half-phrase, or believe I do. Perhaps it is the quality of sound or the inkling of rhythm, which fuels my imagination? A cool draft sweeps over me. I always feel the draft before they arrive. The murmurs grow louder, become more agitated. I cannot see them. I never see them. They remain a mere wisp of presence. A glimmer. A shadow. A fading scent. Nothing more. Present but not present, hovering just out of sight. Yet they are real. I know first-hand they are real. Faceless creatures. Insatiable creatures. Watching. Waiting. Wanting.
I shake my head, more in disbelief than concern. Surely, not again? ‘Please, no more. No more!’ As always, they ignore my muffled pleas, and the endless cycle restarts.
I am prepared to admit I am wrong. Not all wishes should come true. If only I had been more careful with my phrasing. If only. Still, I didn’t deserve this. Not this. The heaven I have created for myself is rapidly becoming my hell. Yet, my demise started so innocently – an illicit kiss for a gypsy girl – a small outlay in return for her telling my fortune, for making my wish come true. The girl stood out in the crowded fairground, her bright clothes a striking contrast to the dull canvas of the small tent in front of which she stood. The girl’s blinding smile drew me to her, those wondrous eyes holding me hostage. ‘Fortune for the lady?’
I didn’t put much faith in it, but for some reason I felt compelled to reveal my innermost desires to this beautiful creature. She was no ordinary fortune-teller. I soon realised the girl was no ordinary gypsy. I confess she had me flustered. Thoughts of lesbian sex flooded my head unheeded and her smile alone made my pussy wet. She held my hand in hers and bade me to choose my wish wisely. For some bizarre reason I said I wished for endless orgasms. Endless? Did I actually say endless? I could have said love, or wealth, or a myriad other things. Yet, I chose orgasms. She smiled when I had finished, bending forward to collect her prize. I had never kissed a girl on the lips, but the gypsy insisted the kiss was a necessary part of the contract. As I pressed my lips to hers, I felt a tremendous rush through my body, leaving me flushed and a little giddy. Later, as I walked home somewhat in a daze I had the strangest feeling the gypsy girl had somehow tricked me.
Is it coincidence that I met Jon and Sarah the same evening? They are a peculiar couple. They induced in me the same strange feeling I had felt earlier at the carnival. It was as if our meeting was not chance at all, but had been preordained. They didn’t fool me. I sensed immediately they were sexual predators. Why else were they at Charlie’s bar? Charlie’s is a sleazy club where all the misfits and deviants gather to find like-minded people. I knew of its reputation before I walked in, but I felt a strange attraction and curiosity got the better of me. I guess I look like an innocent, for Jon and Sarah had separated me from the herd in a matter of minutes. I wasn’t fazed. I’m a big girl and thought I knew what I was doing. Jon and Sarah were pleasant company, and I admit they enthralled me with their frank and explicit stories. After one or two drinks, they had me quite aroused and the thought passed through my head that if they invited me, I would go with them.