Wild Window

I never knew what to expect, other than to be amazed, awed, and, often, a little bit afraid. I knew that it was the combination of these feelings that always drew me back - an intoxicating concoction that Wendy always had brewed and awaiting for me as she told me what to do, where to go.

Naked save for the accessories of the day, I went down the hallway that seemed to ever be growing, creating new portals to new worlds I had never been to before. Count the door nobs until I found the right one, inhaling and exhaling long controlled breaths just as she had taught me long ago. This was the calm before the storm, the time to observe and steel oneself for whatever may come.

As I reached for the nob, I observed the singular symbol on the door. A pictogram of an androgynous portrait, finger raised to pronounced lips in a plea for silence. Could feel the estim electrodes against my skin come to life, vibrator rumble the irritable grunt of a disturbed cat, and was aware of the tightness of the garter belt of taught bondage tape that held the electrical box fast against my thigh. It was as much a tease as it was an equipment test. And I could imagine the smile of thin lips as my startled jump was watched on an unestimable number of hidden cameras. In I went, and on with the show.

The room inside was small, barely more than a prison cell; of such familiarity made me thankful for the space. I entered the center of the room, eyes cast down as expected, and kneeled. Dim lights brightened, a sign to raise my head in the absence of instructions over the intercom, signaling in itself that expectations would be particularly cryptic.

Wendy loved to be cryptic. She would gladly lash instructions into my flesh and leave me to interpret the sprawl of the whip's language, as much an excuse to break me as it was an entertainment. I couldn't help but feel something akin to pride in knowing that she picked me for my intelligence. And I couldn't help but twitch in knowing that she relished breaking that intelligence into meaningless mush.

The door closed behind me through unseen automation. It sealed with a suppressed click. A sound that was alarmingly synthetic and distorted, caused me to rouse from revelry and take in the surroundings.

The walls were covered in striations of foam wedges jutting inward on all sides, alternating vertical and horizontal orientations. Tan mountain steeps jutted towards me accusatorially from all the walls and even the ceiling, while hiding within the recesses of their valleys bright white lights. A panic set in at the recognition, like jumping at a spider that inched its way onto your leg unnoticed.

Wendy had described this kind of room to me before. An anechoic chamber. A room that absorbs all sound. A room for testing in precise conditions. A room that could drive a man insane.

Waves of cold sweat were stopped by the resolute wall of confidence. I could trust Wendy. Trust her to hurt me plenty, but never permanently destroy. She was watching and I would be safe even here. I would endure even if this room swallowed me whole, for her.

I began to acutely grow aware of the void, the absence of sounds as I shifted, the absence of those ever present ambient hums and buzzes of our mechanical world. As if arriving to seize this newly founded kingdom of silence, I began to hear the distant sound marching. I was taken back to those restless childhood days, hands cupped about ears, imagery of row after row of bobbing rounded helms marched in my imagination and the sound of the steady marching beat of my heart.

Those phantom soldiers must have blitzkrieg in their plans, as the electrodes around my shaft came to life and invaded my glans. Her "phantom hands," myriad and of indefatigable strength gripped my pole arm with growing intensity, lifting it up as I was forced to join the march towards oblivion.

It was distressing, not hearing properly the moans and grunts that I my lips insisted they were making. Yet the pavlovian response still arrived as I leaked when vocal chords trembled. Lighting flared even without the thunder, and spurned on the wild pace of my heart, so impossibly loud now.

I writhed there on my knees. Cockhead bouncing up and down as my eyes faded in and out of focus on those cracks of light. Could feel a drooling trail of saliva moisten my bare chest. Sweat began to eagerly flow from every pore. The smell was intensely acrid. A primal source in side of me relished in the wild scents of sweat and precum.

All thoughts taken away, even the voice in my head seemed to grow silence in a moment of exaltation and ecstasy. Felt an orgasm verging forth as my blood began the fullness of its southern death march, the pace of her control matching each quickened beat of my heart.

But then... the sensation eased off. An echo of consciousness escaped the room made to devour it back to the forefront of my mind, with a desperate and inaudible whimper. Eyebrows arched up in steepled prayer that would reach no divinity. The sensations eased to a crawl, the heartbeat marching settled to a stealthy, nonetheless insistent, pace.

I knew that this is where the fun truly started for Wendy. She watched my desperation from hidden angles with gleeful anticipation. And I sought for the means to continue the play, the task that might lead to reward, the means to score in her game.

No sooner had I scanned the room and found nothing of note, than the sensation picked up again. Heart beat quickened and so did the electric tug and pull intensified. Pleasure washed the voice away into those foam crenellations, though it warned in desperation "bewa..."

I reveled in the returned pleasure, marching along with my rapid pulse, urging it over a cliff. But just as it was on the horizon, all came to a slowing halt once more.

Tears streamed in my eyes as I came to an uneasy rest. And it started again.

Back and forth the struggle of a roaring heart fought against the void, but the void fought back and consumed all. I could tell that it was truly my heartbeat that was driving the intensity. Wild yearning feeding a blackhole, glistening its corona with myriad stars of perspiration and milky white precum. But I knew that I could not fill nor escape the incomparable lust that was at the center of Wendy's celestial being.

As I mounted another steep slope and was on the verge of sliding back down, the lights began to dim. Some primal horror reset my heart and bade me into an ironic silent listening and alertness.

The false, enforced calmness that makes the difference between prey and preyed upon brought an epiphany. An epiphany in building pleasure while the drums were yet slow, distant.

I knew what she wanted. Knew that Wendy expected me to tame my bestie nature. To be calm when she had broken me with pleasure and instilled such wildness in me at her touch, from near or afar.

I breathed in deep, slow. Meditating under a waterfall of pleasure. Bit by bit, I endured. My heart steadied, and so did the ebb and flow of pleasure.

Time, too, was a sense I was robbed off. In the darkness, I marshalled the army in me. Almost reigning them in as new surprise assaults were launched by the almost forgotten vibrator, coming alive. The stealthy quavering against my prostate was unsettling without the typical whirring buzz. It felt somehow all the more violating in its unannounced probing. It was enough to drag me from the eye of the storm and enough for my unseeing eyes to roll back in the silent thunder of pleasure roiling through me as I was caught in the pincer attack of two fronts.

Drenched in sweat, I sank defeated by the returned pleasure that ran like a herd of wild stallions, to and fro. Primal fear wracked my body, unknowing of just how much more I could endure, of what punishment awaited should I fail the game.

Then, like a singular golden thread from heaven, I picked out a new sound that dangled softly into the void. It was a heartbeat, fast but softer than my own. The solitude and fear was swept away by resolve. I grabbed onto it and held myself fast, even as the pleasure rose to new heights on currents more desperate than ever. Whether phantom or sent by unknown means, I could hear her heart so close to mine.

My thoughts were focused and singular. It was as if I were two divided from one, soul separated from the body and looking down upon it, seeing through the illusion of the void. Could see my body shaking, twitching, aching. Aching, aching, aching with pleasure, with need. Soul watched it calmly, detachedly until lips of both formed a singular word.

The two were one again and I erupted with an orgasm that seemed to break the silence. My heart seemed truly about to explode, and I did not care. I would explode with it, painting the world white and leaving an epitaph of sticky pleasure that would endure even the void.

I slumped over, spent. Chest heaving in breaths that I could not rightly hear. Before any fear could return or the void could claim any more of my sanity, the door hissed open gently. In floated soft ambient noises, scattered by the soft padding of bare feet.

Wendy was nude beneath her long lab coat. The flush that blossomed across her skin, a glow of cooling sweat, and sweet rivulets running down her legs were her only undergarments.

She fell upon me, collapsing in on me. Head buried against my chest, she kissed my fingers. Her glasses were cold against burning skin. And her heart beat echoed in time with my own.

"You did so well," was all she ever need say. And no void could ever steal those words away.