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The Third Night – An Erotic Story in 4 Parts

Before you start, make sure to read

The First Night‘ & ‘The Second Night

He had been sitting at his desk for nearly two hours, yet hadn’t made much of a dent at all in the work allotted for the day; memories of the night before kept appearing in his mind unbidden –  her face wearing a mask on, her moans of pleasure, her expressions of enjoyment. And with these memories also came a mix of excitement and anxiety for the night to come.

The buzz of his phone vibrating on the desk interrupted his fantasies. He recognized the number, though it wasn’t saved in his phone.

‘Tell me.’

‘Your companion left the hotel.’

‘Thank you.’

Hanging up, he turned to the spreadsheet on this computer, yet the numbers weren’t making any sense.  

He picks up the phone again and dials the last caller back.

‘When did she leave?’

‘As I was calling you.’

‘Are you able to follow her?’

The sound of steps and an opening door.

‘Yes, if I hurry.’

‘Perfect, I’ll contact you as soon as I’m in the area.’

Again hanging up the phone, he closes his laptop and the blinds behind him. Walking out of his office, he looks over his shoulder at the woman looking curiously at his back.

‘Tina? I’m taking the rest of the day off. See you tomorrow.’

It was a sentence he had never uttered in his life.

***

The day is gloomy, unseasonably chilly, and she wraps herself more tightly in her light trench coat. Below she wears a black chiffon dress with white polka dots, practically a useless veil. But above all a veil that makes it necessary to use coordinated underwear, and bra clearly visible under the transparency of the dress. If it weren’t so sheer it would seem old-fashioned, even prudish – and definitely not his usual choice.

With eyes that passed over the windows of the small elegant boutiques without really seeing, she wondered what this choice could mean – it always meant something.   

Finally, she comes across a small cafe and enters quickly, happy to escape the brisk morning air and her current train of thought. Inside the atmosphere is warm and pleasant and given the late hour, not too crowded. Sitting down, she has but a moment before an attentive water arrives to take her order, and then returns with a croissant and a steaming black coffee. He turns to plate toward her so that she can see the heart traced on the pastry  with chocolate, and she offers a bright smile mixed with her thank you. He smiles back, and gives a little nod.

His friendliness gives her the courage to get rid of the overcoat, but she still looks around a little nervously. However, the elegant clientele does not seem to find her particularly scandalous. Finally relaxed, she realizes she is hungry, very hungry. Tearing off a large piece of croissant and bringing it to the mouth: the dough is rich and soft, with a slight hint of vanilla, the top, golden, is crispy under her teeth.

‘May I join you?’

The voice makes her jump and stand, and when she meets his eyes she’s speechless. He is already removing his coat and pulling out the chair to sit, without waiting for her permission. Not that she would have been able to grant it.

And so, in a moment and a bite of croissants, her hunger has already passed.

***

They spend the rest of the day walking around the city, his arm around – providing more warmth than just that of a physical touch. Then he brings her to lunch in a place that only he knows, one of those trattorias with just a few tables and waiters that seem to know every diner. And even if her dress, here, is definitely more out of place, she has not the slightest bit of embarrassment about taking off her coat, or walking to the bathroom in what is essentially her underwear. Looking in the mirror as she washes her hands, she looks happy, and carrying that grin back to their table, it only gets wider as he takes her picture. Neither wants to forget the radiance of her face on their first day spent together.  

They talk for a long time, amiably, after having finished eating. Then he takes her hand and says,

‘Come on, it’s time to go.’ And she feels a shiver run through her like an electric current. The day is over and he is bringing her into the night.

***

When they arrive at the hotel, she realizes that in the amazement of the moment she did not bother to ask him how he  had found her that morning.

‘I wanted to see you and I came to the hotel. They told me that you had gone out and, since it was time for breakfast, I thought of looking for you in cafes along the street. I was lucky.

He gave her a smile and a shrug, pulling her to the elevators, but he can tell she’s not totally convinced.

They enter the room and she automatically heads towards the table. The suitcase is open and in exactly the same position it has been in for two days now, with all its sinful contents on display – but, she can seen gaps in lid of the case where object clearly ought to be.  Had they been stolen? She spins around but sees only his complicit smile. Following his gaze to the bed, she sees them there, three objects stark on the white blanket. She feels a shiver run through while she understands, now, the reason for the dress.

‘I want to warm you up a bit,’ he says in a neutral tone of voice, trying to look nonchalant while he feels himself already getting hard.

She walks slowly toward the end of the bed, letting her ass graze the front of his slacks as she turns her back to him. He places a hand on her neck and bends her forward gently, until her cheek is resting against the duvet.

He strokes her hair for a moment, then bends over her ear and whispers:

‘Stay just there, don’t move.’

She nods, her lips parted in a smile. The light material of her dress tickles her thighs as he raises to her waist, and then pulls her panties down to mid-thigh.

With one eye she sees his hand hover for a moment above the three objects on the bed, then grabs what looks like a leather spatula. She closes her eyes.

An interminable time passes in which she feels herself breathing excitedly waiting for what will come and he contemplates his view of her, bent before him, exposed, vulnerable. The first shot resounds with a snap in the silent room and she, who was not expecting it so hard, reaches out her hands to recover her balance. The second blow comes with the same noise and intensity and she lets out a moan – it’s finding all the most tender spots from the two nights previous.

He watches her flush and cling to the bed and feels the desire to hit her ever harder, and then harder, with an eye on her clenched fist. Seven more blows, and then her left hand goes flat, doing a double pat on the bed to let him know she’s reached her limit. Dropping the spanker on the floor, he kneels to caress her bottom, and gently run his lips against her reddened skin. With a finger, he traces the line of wet that covers her inner thighs.   

Whispering against her skin, he instructs again, ‘Don’t move.’

As he stands up and leaves her, she feels her knees nearly give way, and she’d like nothing more than to slip onto the ground, giddy with the pain and excitement.

But in a moment he is behind her again and his hand rests fresh on her burning flesh. With relief she realizes that he is spreading a cold and gelatinous substance on her skin, his touch light and yet so sensual, especially when he moves from side to side, letting his fingers delve deeply into the delicate folds of herself. As his fingers caress her tender skin, his fingers find a new spot to intrude, first circling lightly, then entering, and then pushing deeper. Then there’s a noise on the blanket near her ear, and she turns her head to see him grabbing a length of what look to be beads.

The tip of the smallest bead is cool against her, not insisting, but rather asking to be let in. Reflexively, she lets out an appreciative sigh, and then arches her back, pushing out toward him.

As each bead slips inward, she feels a heady rush, 4 in total. Almost not realizing that he’s finished, and is pulling up her underwear. Turning her slowly around, he looks at her burning cheeks and wet, shining eyes, then kisses her on the forehead.

‘Come on,’ he says tenderly, ‘It’s time for dinner.’

***

He had chosen a small restaurant near the hotel, one that they could walk to. The knowledge that she walks beside him, so casually, with the beads insider her, has him in a state of excitement he hopes isn’t too obvious through his clothes.

She was stunned at his suggestion to leave the hotel, but didn’t say no – she never said no. After a few hesitant steps in the room, she realised the beads gave no impediment to her steps, and so she grabbed her purse and coat, then headed to the door.  

Now, at the restaurant – they wait to be seated in the bar section. Or rather,  he takes a seat and gestures to her. She shakes her head and leans nonchalantly on the high stool: the object inside her ends with a kind of metal knob that would make it very unpleasant to sit. They do not say much, just sip their drinks – a negroni him, a glass of white wine for her – and they look into each other’s eyes. The place is small and crowded and she is pushed against him several times. And every time she can feel his erection, ready for her.

Finally a waiter approaches.

‘Sorry for the wait – a table is ready for you now.’

He turns to her,

‘What do you say, do you want to sit down?’

An imperceptible smile.

‘Not tonight.’

‘Not tonight, thank you, but another round, please.’

***

When they return to the hotel there is one last object waiting for them on the bed: a rabbit vibrator with impressively bulbous arms. He makes her sit on the bed, then pulls at the buttons of her whisper-thin dress to tear it from her shoulders, and then pulls down her black panties.

‘And that’s all I’m taking off for the moment,’ he says while pouring lubricant on his fingers, and then the vibrator, then his cock.

She stretches out backward on the bed, sinuous like a cat.

He slides the vibrator inside her and turns it on. The feeling of fullness is overwhelming, each vibration seems to resonate within her amplified by the balls still inside her. With subtle thrusts, he brings her to the verge of orgasms, uncontrollable tremors about to overtake her…and then.

Like a cup overflowing her spasms turn into slow, intense bucks. It’s then that he brings to slowly remove the balls from her, one by one, seeming to draw her orgasm on and on – it was endless.

Just like the possibilities of their night.

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About Katy Thorn

Katy Thorn is a post-grad writer with a passion for - and a history of - writing about sex, sexuality and all that it entails. She spends her time running, reading, writing and socialising. Katy has a cat named Feargal, she loves coffee and hates writing bios.

One comment

  1. I read the BDMS erotic story. I have never thought that administering pain was a normal or desirable thing to do in sex. Your implication is that perhaps lots of people like it – I wonder? So I went on line to view some of the BDMS activities. Admittedly those videos do not illustrate real life. It was always women who were suffering the pain, being misused and losing dignity. It was the same in 50 shades of Grey – the woman received the abuse. In your story it was said that dishing out the pain gave the man a harder erection – so who is gaining – don’t answer that! Is there any biological scientific evidence to support the claim that pain increases sexual pleasure? Seems unlikely that it would be possible to do unbiased research? It would need a whole set of “perverts”. Is it more likely that the sex act, with all the different ways, is still repetitive, quickly over and finally boring, while still being driven, so that broadening the entertainment is the real purpose?

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