1.

She binds me gently.

“Almost classic C.F.M. pose.”

Face pressed to the pillow. Thighs, belly, and cock flat on the soft bed. My knees bent—feet in the air. Legs spread wide. I grip my own ankles and curve like a triangle while she ties the spiderweb ropes in tiny, beautiful knots to my wrists.

Isn’t her voice too deep to be a woman’s? Or does it just seem that way because I want her to be a man?

“Jude, what’s classic C.F.M.?”

She lifts my hips off the bed, jerking me in one motion to my knees and forcing my ass high. I tighten my grip on my ankles as my chest takes more of my weight. I fight the urge to put my half-bound hands by my face to catch myself.

“Spread your legs.”

I do.

“More,” Jude commands.

I obey.

So exposed. My cock hangs down, dangling like fruit ripe for the plucking. The position makes my heart beat faster. Anticipation twitches through me.

“Can you rest like that?” Her fingers stroke the ropes. She wants to tie me like this.

Rest? Absolutely not. I slide back onto my belly, returning to my relaxed triangle. “I was unclear. I meant what does the acronym stand for.”

“Oh.” She leans near my ear. So intimate. “Come Fuck Me Pose.”

I shiver.

She finishes the knots. When I release my ankles, my wrists are trapped. I writhe briefly, testing her work. It’s real. There’s no escape.

Jude pushes my hip and drops me to my side. “You don’t trust my knots?”

“No… No, I do.” I didn’t, but I can’t deny them now. You can tell a decorative knot from a real one instantly.

The pose, Not-C.F.M., is more comfortable on my side. I could close my legs and breathe better, but whatever wrist I land on is going to suffer after a while.

Jude continues rolling me until I situate myself on my back. Sluttier than ever. Legs wide and wanting. Hands relaxed. Cock confused.

She turns me onto my front again and reaches under me with a professional’s unlusty hands to glide my cock back under me. So strong. I wonder again if she’s actually a man.

Her weight leaves the bed, and I have a vision of her returning, newly-made male, taking the body she’d so painstakingly bound.

“Is this what you hoped for, boss?”

I nod. There’s no reason to feel this dry-throated and weird. Or at least no weirder than anyone else in this conference.

Jude had been undeniably female in her bar but more seductive than anyone woman I’ve ever met. Well, more seductive for me. I imagine she’d be invisible to… normal men. With her jeans stretched across muscular thighs, with her black tank top that teased cleavage and displayed ripped arms, with her jaw hard as a super-hero only slightly softened by full lips, Jude carried that odd blend of male power and curvy femininity that was either persecuted or ignored. On the small cabaret stage, she wore an army jacket and smoked e-cigarettes without any hipster illusions, but as brutishly as if she were in the army. Or air force. There were rumors, but I didn’t have the courage to ask about reality. It might shatter the illusion.

And the appeal of an S&M retreat was the illusion, wasn’t it? Everything that could interrupt it was done in advance. S.T.D. testing. The contract-only rooms. She’d laid out the rules so clearly when she’d pitched the retreat. Down to the layout of the convention hall and where sex was forbidden.

“And not in a cutesy way, either.” She’d taken the e-cigarette between her thumb and forefinger to smirk at her audience. “You fuck outside the proper rooms, and you will be escorted out. No refunds.”

Something taps over my head. When I strain my eyes, I can see the sign she’s taping over the bed. “Free for the taking.  Please leave as found: clean, bound, and gagged. Do not remove blindfold.”

I don’t have to strain to see the nightstand. She’s laid out all the necessities to abide by her rules. Package of baby-wipes. Tube of lube. Sack of condoms.

Jude crouches by the bed in my line of vision to look into my face. She has the gauze and duct-tape in her hand. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yeah.”

“You have no safety.”

What’s she doing? Trying to tease me?

After watching her pitch, I approached her. Nervous. Shy. Wishing for someone else to tell the world what I wanted. I sat across from her in her office, which was cramped with napkins and legal binders. Crates of booze and limes were stacked neatly on a steel-shelf beside an open filing cabinet. She closed it when she sat down to protect her employee records. Not a place designed for soul barring conservations.

But you can’t be particular about the details when you meet the person who can grant all your deepest desires.

She sat silently, saying nothing while I detailed the full fantasy. It was agony. Even after I finished, she remained stoic and cold.

Just because someone can grant all your deepest desires doesn’t mean they will.

“You want something to drink? Water or cranberry juice or—”

“I don’t drink.” It was weird to tell a bar owner, and I only realize after I’ve started that she hasn’t offered alcohol. “I come to see the dancers and the S&M show. You’re very good, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” She lit a cigarette, a real one.

She deliberated as she smoked then mused. “I limit myself to three of the real ones a day. Morning. Dinner. And one just in case, I get something like that.”

I blushed to my ears, humiliated— and not in the right way. The wrongness twisted up in my gut. I regretted coming here, trying to ask, because now I’d ruined this bar for myself. I’d be ashamed to return after suffering rejection like that.

I stood, putting on a peacoat probably worth more than anything else in her office. “Thank you for—”

“Sit down.”

I froze at her command. Totally different voice. Deeper. No trace of that little smile in her eyes. That was the voice that she used when she had a whip in her hand, and no one could disobey.

Certainly not me.

“Lift your head.”

I crane my neck to lift my head high, and she combs my hair with her fingers. I keep it short and professional, but for this occasion, I’ve let it grow enough for her to grip it. She tugs it now, and I see the sign again. “Free for the taking.  Please leave as found…”

“Close your eyes, boss.”

She wraps the gauze around my head, covering my eyes in the thin cotton. Once, twice, three times. Tucks the ends in a tiny knot at the side of my head.

The duct-tape cracks as she pulls a length of it free. She wraps the duct-tape only once, carefully applying it to conceal the gauze. The sticky tape touches the bridge of my nose, a bit of my forehead, too much of my cheek. She rustles my hair as much as she can to cover the duct-tape.

A moment later, she touches my mouth.

“Last chance.”

“Thank you, Jude.”

A bag rustles, and something soft and plastic touches my lips.

“Wait!”

She snaps the gag back. She thinks I’m reconsidering the safe word. That I’m second-guessing my desires.

But… I don’t think I could handle it if this anticipation was let down. “What if they don’t come? I mean… to the room?”

Jude outright laughs. She has no right to laugh at my fears. Not when she can turn on that voice and demand obedience. She runs her hand over my ass. The possessive strength of her fingers thrills me. “Trust me. They’ll come.”

She puts the gag in my mouth. A ball gags with a little dildo. I appreciate these little details as she tightens it around my mouth.

Jude snaps open the bottle of lube… I think. I wait for her to be the first to violate me. I’ve seen her briefcase. I know she has the tools.

She walks away.

I don’t hear a door close, and it makes me shiver again. Anyone walking by can see me.

I trust her. They will come. Take what was free. Leave it clean, bound, and gagged.

2.

When the first comes, I’m not sure he’s actually here. I thought I heard the creak of the door, but Jude left it open. Maybe someone is looking in, leaning on the door frame. Hesitantly studying the room, the bed, the man posed there for his pleasure. It must feel like a trap.

In my self-imposed darkness, I’ve hallucinated footsteps before. I’m determined not to believe them until—

The door shuts.

That little clop and click shakes me to my core. I wait. Bound, gagged, and blindfolded, I can’t do much else besides wait. Wait for him to take advantage of a man bound and abandoned. Wait for him to fuck me raw. Wait for him to take and leave.

Instead, he savors the gift. His gloved hands set fire to my skin when he touches my bare ass, leather-bound fingers grate around my exposed hole. He strokes the knots, noting the care that has gone into the wrapping. Runs his fingers over the duct tape as if admiring the bow and checking for the recipient’s name. Finding no gift tag, he presses his hands over my bowed back and massages. I moan into the gag at the strength of his touch, the power of a firm groping hand.

A kiss on my cheek below the gag surprises me. The tongue on my neck makes me whimper. He’s so smooth and soft against my back as if he’d just shaved. His hungry mouth explores my sides as if he needs his teeth and lips to understand my body’s position. Sweet tickling torture when he nibbles my ass, licks between my spread thighs.

The lube is cold when he pours it onto my back. Warm by the time it drips into my ass. He massages me wide, so generous, so careful, so damned hot. He’s brought toys, but I only realize it when the “finger” in my ass begins to vibrate.

He pulls down the gag, and I seek his cock. I find it impossibly hard and seethed in flavored plastic. I lap up until the cherry is gone, and all that’s left is plastic and my own saliva. Such a big cock. He works it well, starting slow and casually exploring my lips and tongue. Before I even realize it’s happening, he’s fucking my face, thoroughly dominating my mouth.

All in silence.

He never says a word. Not a grunt or a stray moan. The only indication of his desire is that rock-hard cock in my throat. Inside me, the vibrator ratchets up, making my ass tingle with electric delight. I hear the buzz so intensely because otherwise, the only noise is my writhing on the rustling sheets—the thunder of my moaning.

Then the sloshing of his cock leaving my mouth.

The vibrator’s buzz deadens, and the little intrusion pops out, and I’m alone in the darkness, in my overwhelming need.

But he has not left. I can feel the heat of where he’s touched me—the ache in my jaw and the tingle between my ass cheeks.

He was here. He still is here. Looking at me in perfect silence.

I strain and only hear the roar of my heartbeat, the hurricane of my own breathing. Then, because I can’t stand this quiet, the riot of my own begging.

“Please, fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please. Use me, sir. I need it hard, and I need it now. Please.”

I’m not used to my voice like that. Needing. It frightens me because I’ve given away all my power. If he doesn’t like my begging, if he’s finished with me, he can leave, and I can do nothing to quell this ache myself. I can only—

His cock invades suddenly, encountering no resistance from my dripping hole. I groan with pure ecstasy, and if he’d pushed all the way in at once, I know I would have come on the spot. But he plays with my body like a master musician, knowing just the right place to strike to get the next high note, but not the full chord.

“Oh God, yes… thank you.  Please… please.”

He shifts my body, lifting my hips higher, spreading my legs wider, until I fall with my face in the pillow, spearing further into my ass.

Wait… this is— what did Jude call this. Come Fuck Me pose?

That’s what he does. Comes and fucks me. He’s so good to me, such a spoiler. Hard and deep, just like I needed. More than I deserve from the first to find me like this. Better than I have any right to expect, offering myself like a complete slut. He even reaches around and squeezes my cock. Not that I need much working over. A few strokes and I scream and come, wetting the sheets with a splinter of sticky lust.

I’m so caught up in my own orgasm, I don’t notice his. So dazed with my own pleasure that I take that lovely fullness for granted until his cock is gone. He kisses my mouth, and my pucker gapes, opening and closing involuntarily, looking for something to fill its wet depths. It wants cum, but it won’t it.

My breathing slows, and softens. I relax into my lazy version of the C.F.M. pose. Listen as he puts the vibrator away. He cleans his toys, wiping down my back, tucking his finger into my pucker one last time. Then he’s heading out.

“Hey,” I call. “Didn’t you read the sign?”

He chuckles a soft low murmuring sound. He replaces the gag.

3.

The next man gets my attention by slamming the door, jolting me awake. Christ, had I been napping? I straighten my legs and flex my toes and wait for him.

No punishment for this slave being caught so lax. No slaps. No hits.

Just the ragged rattle of his zipper. The rip of the condom wrapper, the crinkle of plastic against skin. Then his hand presses my face into the pillow, and his cock stuffs into my hole.

“Oh shit!” The suddenness shocks me, though my outcry is muffled by the plastic cock attached to my gag. My own cock springs to alertness.

He thrusts deep and bounces out, then slams in hard again.

I cry out in pain and surprise, but with his hand on my head and my arms bound to my ankles, there’s no resisting him.

When he’s warmed up— when he’s certain my ass is open and slick as a well-fucked pussy, he braces his hands on either side of my head. He’s like a man doing push-ups, except the only thing moving is his cock, pounding in and out of my ass. Like a piston starting with deep swiveling thrusts and only picking up speed. His cock spears into me, and when I whimper from the mechanical brutality of it, he slaps my head.

“Shut the fuck up, cunt.”

So I swallow the pain. Pleasure roars through my cock, trapped as it is beneath my belly, bouncing merrily along with his abuse when it is allowed the slightest breathing room.

He rams harder and faster. Drops of his sweat drizzle down my back. I grip my ankles and bit the gag to keep from screaming as he fucks harder, faster, deeper. There is no other man with him in this act. Just his cock and a warm fuckable cunt. He announces with a loud grunt when he’s coming and roars with triumphant release.

He only touches me to run that moist towelette over my back, cleaning off his sweat. The used condom squelches in the wastebasket. “First.”

Smug bastard. I smile into the gag. Grateful for his brutality. Grateful for his cock. Grateful for the secret that he was not actually the first.

4.

They come throughout the day, and I lose track quickly. Sometimes they come alone…

“How hard do you want this, my pretty little slut?”

“Bitch, scream again, and I’ll give you a real gag.”

Sometimes in pairs…

“Yeah, that’s it, dude. Fuck his face.”

“Oh, hit him again, baby! He likes it. Yeah. Harder.”

“Are you sure we can both fit? Are we allowed?”

Sometimes there were so many, they have to wait in line.

“Come on, stop hogging him.”

“Let me fuck that sweet ass.”

“Turn him over so I can get some.”

Sometimes they didn’t wait but showered me in cum.

Sometimes they came back.

“I told you, guys. Look. He’s been like this all day. Free for the taking.”

5.

They all had someplace important to be by midnight. So the last group to fuck me—two in my ass, two fighting over my mouth, three jerking-off over me, I think— were in such a rush they left me on my back without my gag.

By this time… almost eight hours of nearly constant sex… I’d lost the will to correct them.

I just lay with my legs sprawled, the strangers’ cum and sweat drying on my body, breathing hard. I slept like an well-fucked angel until someone sat on the bed with me.

Oh no… caught unaware and sloppy. I tried to shift, to get back into a sexy pose for this man who’d so thoughtfully come back for me.

“Relax, it’s only me.”

Only Jude. As if her presence didn’t make me shiver all over with gratitude and the desire to please. As if she hadn’t been the one to grant my deepest wishes today.

“How’d we do, boss?” she asks.

The towelettes ran out hours ago, but there’s a wet hand-towel, and she gingerly cleans me.

“You tell me.” I nod my head where I think the wastebasket is.

She counts the condoms—to herself the cruel bitch— and I take a weird delight in the crinkle of the early ones and the squelch of the fresh ones.

“I think you took every man at this conference at least once, boss.”

I chuckle at the idea, satisfied and sore but infinitely pleased with myself. “There’s one more, too.”

“He didn’t use a condom?”

“Took it with him.” That first man hadn’t dropped anything in the wastebasket. “He had toys, so maybe he took it in a separate baggy. He came about ten minutes after you left.”

She hums. “That’s not… do you have a good sense of time for someone blindfolded and gagged?”

“This isn’t exactly my first time.”

“Well, it’s not possible.”

My body wants to sit up and turn to her with surprise, but her knots have held-up with damning excellence, and I’m too weak to do more than flinch. “What…”

“After I left you, I went downstairs to introduce the scavenger hunt, which you were the prize for, by the way.” She taps my cheek. “And what a good prize you were.”

I agree. Nicely done on her part.

“Even the most competitive man — and you had to be focused on getting to the end— even he couldn’t have gotten all the clues in… I’d say half an hour.”

He found me by accident. I sigh with desire for that unknown stranger who looked in a door and so kindly took what he wanted without being lead to it. But it’s a lust that my body can’t physically sustain anymore. So I’m left with the memory of desire, and I tremble before it.

Jude ruffles my hair. “How are you holding up, boss? Still, all you hoped for?”

I nod, unable to express just how satisfied I am. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you can send a ‘thank you’ card for.

“Still cozy tied up like that?”

“Yes, but—” I’ve had time to explore the variety of ways I could be “cozy” with my hands bound to my ankles. “Aren’t you going to untie me now?”

“Not me,” Jude says. “I raffled you off to the highest bidder.”

My stomach flutters. I wish I could see her face, to gauge with this is some joke. Or does she really mean—

“He’s gonna come up here and do whatever he likes with you until noon tomorrow.”

“But that wasn’t—” part of my fantasy was the total loss of control. Not just the parade of men. My body may be exhausted and sore…but the realization that there is more coming, more men, more pleasure makes my cock twitch with anticipation.

“You said twenty-four hours, boss. But if you changed your—”

“Thank you, Jude.”

She kisses me and puts the gag back where it belongs.