To Be Taken

To Be Taken

She found herself torn somewhere between excitement and petrifying anxiety. It was not that she was naïve to the practice of paying for one’s pleasure; it was simply that she never imagined herself in such a position. She had been married for the better part of her life to an attractive and wealthy man who had made his fortune in the wine trade before retiring to a life of quiet philosophical contemplation. In the early years of their marriage, he had taken her nightly, desperate to conceive an heir. After she gave birth to twins, he lost interest in her; whether it was because his paternal obligation was filled or simply a loss of interest, she did not know.

She looked at herself in the polished silver mirror. She admitted her brown hair, piled upon her head in a sea of ringlets, was plain and not the golden color men so coveted as of late, but her face was pleasant. Her hazel eyes were large with long lashes so strikingly dark that they required no cosmetic. Her lips were soft and full, although she often enjoyed darkening them rather than settling for their pale pink color. She ran a hand up her body, cupping her breast softly. Childbirth had been kind to her, her smooth full orbs hung forward only slightly. She palmed her pert pink nipple, sending a shockwave through her body. She traced her fingers downward. Her stomach was soft and smooth, and her thighs were full and white. She lightly ran her fingertips over her delicate pink folds. She sighed as she felt herself moisten almost instantly. She desperately wanted to rub, but no, she had paid good coin to have somebody else take care of her.

She filled her palm with oil and began to anoint her body. She rubbed up her arms and down her neck, pausing before stroking oil over her breasts. She closed her eyes and began to massage her breasts with the oil, leaning her head back in utter relaxation. A sudden voice startled her.

“Would you like me to do that?” came the man’s smooth voice from behind her

She turned, clasping her hands over her breasts and pressing her thighs together in an attempt to hide her nudity. “Trying to be modest?” the man chuckled as he stepped into the light. He was of average height, with oiled tan skin and tousled blonde hair. His soft features and mischievous eyes displayed that he was quite younger than she was. She blushed hotly. “Hold your tongue!” she spat, unaccustomed to such brazen speech.

He fell silent and crossed the room in a few long strides. Having him stand before her made the reality of what she was doing sink to her core. She was going to take this man in exchange for money. She felt almost ashamed, and, for a moment, she wished nothing more than to run away, run home to her empty bed and her absent husband. Perhaps she would go to his bed, naked, and expose herself to him in hopes of enticing him to touch her—oh for him to touch her! But she knew he would not; however, the man before her did.

The man set one hand upon the small of her back and stroked the back of his hand down her body.

“I did not…” she began to protest, but he cut her off.

“What would you like, my lady,” he whispered huskily as he took her breast in his hand and began to massage it.

“I-I…” she stammered. She could not speak, his hand searing her flesh.

“Do not know?” he finished. “Then let me do my job, yes?”

Without waiting for an answer, he deftly swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. She lied before him, feeling small and exposed. She knew she should protest to his manner; it was she who was supposed to be in control. But he was right…. For so many years, the only pleasure she had known was the desperate massage of her own fingertips, and she did not know what she wanted. He began by kissing along the curve of her neck while stroking the length of her torso with his hand. She had paid for this. She needed it, and so, she surrendered to it.

The man had only entertained a few clients as he was very young, but he knew enough to tell that this situation was unique. So often he appeared before clients, most often men, who barked orders and took their fill without hesitation. A woman surrendering herself to him was something he had never experienced.

He cupped her breast with his hand and began to softly kiss its twin. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she sighed softly. He opened his mouth and ran his warm tongue over her flesh, pausing at the apex before circling her nipple with his tongue. He flicked the tip of his tongue over her flesh until he felt it stiffen in his mouth. He traded places between his mouth and hand, but this time he took her hard nipple into his lips and began to suck softly. She moaned deeply under his treatment as she began to feel a liquid heat pooling at her core.

As if he had read her mind, he began to slide his mouth downwards, trailing lips and tongue over her belly. He paused at her navel and dipped his tongue inside. He then took her creamy thighs in his hands and pulled them apart. She tensed. He began on her left thigh, kissing down towards her knee and then licking the path in reverse. He repeated the action on her right thigh before pausing and looking up at her. Unaware of his gaze, she had abandoned herself. Her small hands were filled with her breasts as she massaged herself. Her fingers kneaded her flesh as her thumbs rubbed over her nipples. She breathed heavily with desire, her oiled chest heaving up and down with want. At her core, she was soaked. Her insides were slicked with moisture which seeped out of her and permeated the air with her musky scent; he breathed her in deeply.

He rested his palm on her mound and found himself a bit surprised as her hips ground against him for a brief moment. He positioned his thumb at her opening and pushed the pad of his finger into her slightly before stroking her outer lips with her own fluid. “Ah!” she gasped, squeezing her breasts firmly. He continued to rub her, thoroughly coating her, until he observed her sex was well engorged and hot. Her clitoris had emerged and stood throbbing. Without warning, he dragged his flat tongue all the way up her slit and over her needy nub. Her back arched of the bed as a cry of pleasure caught in her throat. He continued, licking her all the way up and down again and again until she finally cried out. He licked his lips and wrapped them around her clitoris before beginning to softly suck. Simultaneously he inserted a finger into her wet opening and began to move it in and out. “Oh! Oh!” was all she could manage. She wanted to cry out for him to not stop, just like that, just a little more, but either pleasure or pride prevented such a display. However, she could not control her hips as she began grinding against his mouth… so close to climax. His tongue rubbing her clit while it was in his lips was all she could take. She moaned loudly and squeezed her breasts hard as she rode her orgasm out against the man’s mouth.

It took her several moments to realize that his touch was gone; he was now seated upon his knees before her, gazing at her. She laid spread out, her legs still open, her breasts still in her hands. Her skin was flushed and shined with a mixture of oil and sweat. She had never been so naked in her life. It was then that she noticed he was still clothed, although he wore only a loincloth. She stared at the ties holding the garment up and then met his eyes. Her mouth gave no order, but he knew. Without ever breaking her gaze, he removed the small piece of cloth to reveal his rising member. She pushed herself up and stared at him hard. She knew she could stop now; she could send him away. Instead, she reached her hand out and took hold of him. With a firm grasp, she began to stroke him, slowly at first, but increasing in tempo. When she was satisfied that he was fully erect, she lied back down. Her hands trembled as she stroked her parted thighs invitingly. Her middle finger delved to her sex, and she rubbed herself before him; her full lips parted as her breath began to quicken once again.

He knew he should wait for an order, but he simply couldn’t. He grasped his erection and placed its tip at her entrance. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she ran her fingers back through her tousled hair. He rubbed the head of his manhood up and down her slit over and over, spreading her hot moisture between them. Unable to bear it, she reached up and put her hands on his hips and pulled him forward. He positioned himself at her entrance and slid into her in a smooth motion.

“Oh! Gods!” she cried out at the long missed feeling of being filled. The man withdrew back before filling her again, and again. She ran her hands along her body as he stroked her hot insides with his thick member. He bore down upon her and began to gently lap at her nipples with his tongue while thrusting in earnest. She ran her fingers through his hair, down his back, over his chest, and down to his hips. She ground herself against him, panting desperately as his thrusting rocked her body over and over. “Mmm! Mm—Aah!” she moaned, opening her mouth to lick his ear and whisper “harder!” at an almost inaudible volume. He obliged her instantly, holding her hips steady with his hands and pounding into her. The room was filled with the sound of hot flesh and impassioned cries. She lost all sense of time as he thrust into her. Her hands wandered freely: over his chest and arms, through his hair, across her own breasts, rubbing over her clit. She became slightly aware of a voice crying out in pleasure, but she hardly noticed that it was her own. At least she could feel the heat reaching a peak, and she grabbed him, digging her fingers into his strong arms. “I—I’m… oh! Ah….aah!” she cried out in absolute bliss as the orgasm thundered through her body. She let her breath out and allowed her eyes to roll back as he continued his merciless thrusting. He had never dared to come into a client, but he could not help himself. Her hot walls were in spasms, gripping and massaging him within her; with one guttural cry he released inside of her.

A long moment of silence followed as he caught his breath. He rose from the bed and dressed himself without a word. She watched as he crossed the room and dipped a cloth into a bowl of water. He returned to her side, and began to wipe her still gasping form with the cool rag. She stared at him, and for that moment, she wondered if such tenderness was a product of affection. Her body cooled and cleansed, he pushed a few errant strands of hair from her face. “Take as long as you need,” he whispered before departing. As she sat alone in her afterglow, she began to wonder if she had taken him or if he had taken her.