Here is my second entry into ExhibitA’s contest.  I couldn’t choose between this picture and the previous picture so I decided to give them both an entry of their own. They were both so beautiful!  Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Photo Credit: Cammies

Seek and You Shall Find

The mind is something too unbridled to control. Not even the most controlled of people can fight the humanistic urge to find satisfaction when it has been denied for too long.  Women such as Tamara who believed work was an easy replacement for passion.

Tamara worked sixty hour weeks in a corner office of a no name auction house.  Her job was to create a name for the house, put them on the map.  She traveled extensively to find the rarest of items to bring buyers from around the world.  She was achieving a small level of success, having caught the eye of a New York house that wanted to join together for an auction of antique erotic paintings and devices.  Still unclear by what was meant by ‘devices’ she set a meeting and jumped on the first plane out of Chicago.

“Tamara Stillbathe?” A voice called to her over the crowd at the luggage corral. She spun around looking for the owner of the voice.  The trip had been quick, having been exhausted from worry the night before she slept the entire flight.  Her hair was in disarray because of it, and she tried to smooth her hair back into the braid that fell down her back.  “Ms. Stillbathe?” She found the young man holding a piece of paper with her name scribbled on the front. She narrowed her eyes, her name was misspelled.

“Yes, that’s me.” She struggled to slip her purse back over her shoulder while continuing to hold her carryon and luggage. The driver relieved her of the suitcase and told her the car was right outside the door.

She wasn’t sure what she expected from New York City, but she found herself to be unimpressed. It didn’t seem all that different from Chicago. Perhaps a little flashier.  The driver remained silent on the ride, which she appreciated as she checked emails and made her phone calls.

The man she was meeting was the curator for the NYC Auction House.  Thier conversations on the phone had been brief, direct and to the point.  She hoped the following week would be more of same. She disliked dallying, and she hated small talk.  Personal connections weren’t her thing.

“Tamara.” A man dressed in the finest suit she’d ever met stood in the center of the room as she entered the auction house.  The gallery was breathtaking.  Light from the street poured into the main room from the windowed front wall.  She was more in awe of the architecture and decor of the auction house than any building they passed on the way from the airport.

“Mr. Wingston.” She smiled in greeting and offered her hand. He clasped it with both of his and brought her hand to his lips. She jumped slightly at the intimacy of his lips brushing against her knuckles. He had not appeared so forward in their talks.  “Come, let me show you the house.” His voice echoed through the room. His presence seemed to fill the place. Before she could respond she was relieved of her personal items and was sucked in the whirlwind of Mr. Wingston.

“This is the hall I am most excited about. It will be a grand showing.” His grin reached up to his eyes. His forehead wrinkled with anticipation as he held both of the steel door handles.   He looked her over once and threw them open.

She walked through the exhibit with an open jaw.  Sexual devices displayed in glass cases lined the room. Most of them rusted from time.  Cuffs that looked more like a torture implement than a bedroom plaything, sat on a silk pillow in a display case.   Her eye was caught by a coiled whip laying beside it.  She looked deeper at the leather braiding with an appreciation for the artsmanship.

“I don’t see how these things could be erotic.” She scoffed and stood straight when she felt him standing beside her.  

“Oh, they are more than erotic.” His voice held authority.

“You’ve tried them?” She smiled. The idea of the man standing before her holding the whip in his hand seemed ridiculous at first, though the more the picture seeped into her imagination she softened to the idea.

“Not these.” He shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back as he walked around her, pausing at her back.   “But others that would make you cry with pain and weep with pleasure.” His hot breath brushed her ear as he whispered. She cleared her throat. “You are wound so tight, Tamara. So much in need of release.” He traced her jaw line with his finger.  “When is the last time you had an orgasm?” He kissed her neck.  She closed her eyes at the feeling of his warm lips pressed to her neck.

“Mr-”

“Joseph. Call me Joseph.” He instructed while running his hands up and down her back in a soothing fashion.

“Joseph-”

“When was it? A month ago? A year?” He kissed her neck again. She swallowed. Her mind was fuzzy.  His fingers were intoxicating.

“Too long.” She admitted in a soft voice.  He turned her to him and captured her mouth beneath his. She melted into his embrace and joined in the kiss. She found her hands wrapping around his waist as he intensified the kiss.

“I have a room in my office.” He spoke between kisses. She nodded and allowed herself to be whisked down a hall and a flight of stairs.  

He brought her to his massive office under the main floor of the gallery. She would have thought his office would be over the gallery overlooking the street, but once she saw his room she understood his want of privacy.

A large bed sat central in the spare room, separate from his office.  A dedicated wall held a rack that housed several belts, whips, floggers and ropes. She stared in disbelief.  

“Remove your clothing.” His commanding voice boomed in the room. She fluttered her fingers over the buttons of her blouse but managed to work them free. She shimmied out of her skirt. When she turned around, she was surprised to find him fully dressed. Instantly she covered herself with her hands. “No. Hands at your side.” He held his hands out to her, beckoning her to the bed.

Once in his hands he helped her to lay on the bed.  He fluffed the pillows around her head and kissed her. His lips traveled from her lips, to her throat and further downward until he arrived and her pert nipples.

“Your tits are beautiful.” He said against her skin and took a nipple between his teeth. She took a deep breath as he applied pressure. His lips enclosed her, and he suckled for a brief moment before he moved across to the next breast.

His fingers trailed down her stomach, teasing her with his featherlike touch until he reached the neatly trimmed nestle of curls.  He stroked her as though petting a small animal at first, then moved further down to her depths.  He gave no warning as he plunged his finger into her wetness. “So responsive!” He smiled down at her. He removed his finger from her and keeping her eyes locked on his he put his finger to her lips.  She opened her mouth and hungrily licked her juices from him. His grin widened. “Such a good girl.”

He disappeared from the bed and snatched a toy from his wall. “I want to you keep your legs open. Do not close them or I will punish you. I promise you won’t like the punishment. Do you understand.” He kissed her lips again.

“Yes.” She was hungry for his touch, for the pleasure he promised. He stood at the foot of the bed, between her legs.  She felt a furry sensation being flickered over her pussy and looked down the length of her body. He held what appeared to be a feather duster.  She smiled at the fun sensations and settled herself into her position.  

A sharp slap from the implement made her sit up on the bed.  There was an evil part to the toy. He motioned for her to lay back. Another thwap of the harsh implement and another before she could catch her breath.

“If only you could see the beautiful color your pussy is right now. Oh. Maybe you can.” He laid the toy on her, fluffling the soft feathers over her clit.  She heard a camera shutter open and the snapping of pictures. “I’ll show you later.” He promised and tossed the camera on the bed. “For now.. I need to taste you.”

He dove onto the bed and captured her pussy with his entire mouth. He sucked at her lips and her clit. His teeth scraped against her. She arched toward him. A kitten’s purr stuck in her throat. He circled her channel with two of his fingers then plunged into her dripping wet pussy. She groaned loudly with the invasion.  

He nipped at her clit and removed his fingers from her, dragging them down her thighs as he continued to torture her with his tongue.  

“Please.” She begged with ragged breath. “I need you inside me.” She pulled at him.  He shed his clothing and hovered over her. She could smell her scent on him.  

“Say it again.”

“I need you inside me.” She pleaded with her eyes.  He touched her opening with his head.

“Again.”

“I need you in me!” She urged him with a nudge of her hips. He clasped her waist  and drove himself into her. They both grunted with the sensations.  Her thin legs wrapped around his waist, her nails dug into his shoulders as he pumped into her.

He reached between them, grabbing her slick clit and rolling it between his fingers. Her eyes rolled back and before she recognized the burning tingling in her belly she felt an explosion.  The room swirled out of control, a scream escaped her, and her body shivered from the pleasure.  She lay back panting while he began to call out her name.

“Tamara. Tamara.” A voice called from a distance.  A hand landed on her shoulder shaking her back to reality.

“OH! Um.” She ran a hand over her brow at looked at Mr. Wingston who was eyeing her with concern. He looked to the exhibit piece she had been inspecting.  The riding crop he’d discovered in a collection from an earl in the 19th century. It was made with a leather flapper on one side, as normal for a crop, but a feathery bundle on the opposite end.

“Are you ready for the rest of the tour?” He asked, his voice dropping a bit.

“Yes. Of course.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and followed him down the stairs. To his office.