The Penthouse Fuck, Part 2: Cristal and Silk Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m sorry. I haven’t written in days. But I confess I’ve barely been out of bed. Not because I had an accident or I’m sick or lazy. Because of him. That man. That fucking incredible, adorable, dangerous, beautiful man. I’ve already told you how we met. I already told you about our first night together. I can tell you now I barely remember the hours after that last entry. I think I passed out when he was off doing his work as a venture capitalist (and that is one of his many mysteries: where does he get the stamina? How can he keep going, out there and in here, with me?). My next real memory is of David coming back to the Penthouse at this insanely expensive Las Vegas hotel I can’t mention. He unlocked the door shortly after sunset, with the skies on fire all around us, burning the desert skies to black. His William Fioravanti suit coat was rumpled. His Turnbull & Asser tie was loose around his thickly muscled neck. He had a fist of finely made strips of cloth – burgundy silk, I knew, in a tangled ball — in one hand and a bottle of Roederer Cristal Champagne in the other. “Got back as fast as I could,” he said, his voice already rough with anticipation. “Are you ready for me?” “Fuck, yes,” I said. I could feel the juices oozing out of me already, wetting the mattress between my legs. I reached out to rip the shirt off him, but he caught my wrists in his hands. Strong hands. “No,” he said. “My treat.” He was rough but not cruel. He pulled my body by the wrists to the center of the bed. In an instant he had my right wrist over my head and lashed to the chrome bedpost, the strip of silk holding my tightly but comfortably in place. No pain, I realized. Only the pleasure of restraint. Then he bent across me and I could smell his musky, male scent as he bound my other wrist to the opposite post. I felt my nipples harden at the mere promise of his touch. He moved to the foot of the bed. I began to spread my legs and he stopped me with a slap – a hard slap. He wasn’t playing. “My treat,” he said, and roughly, quickly bound my ankles left and right, good and tight. I was spread-eagle, fully exposed. He had complete control of me and I fucking loved it. He put his mouth on one breast and pulled at my nipple with his teeth, stretched it and nipped it. One hand when into my hair and pulled – gently, firmly, harder and harder. Her other hand pinched and twirled the other nipple, tortured it gloriously, and my hips rose, my ass lifted from the bed because I couldn’t fucking stop myself and he slapped me down sharply, shoved at my pussy and pushed it down. “Only when I say,” he whispered. “Only when I let you.” He covered his finger with his own creamy pre-cum and wiped it on my lips. He flicked his fingers on my nipples and made them sting, made me gasp. He pinched and twisted my pussy lips and when I groaned he covered my mouth with his sticky palm and said “Not yet. Not yet. I want to taste you.” I watched him turn away from me and pick up the bottle of Cristal. He popped it open with an expert turn and flick, so smooth and firm it didn’t even foam. “Open your mouth,” he told me. “Stick out your tongue.” I did it instantly, wanting whatever he wanted to give me, wanting more. He held the lip of the bottle six inches over my mouth and dribbled golden drops onto my tongue. I wished, I prayed it was his cum instead. It stopped too soon. He drifted down my body, eyes locked to mine, and I felt like my mouth, my tongue, my whole body was on fire. He went on his knees between my legs. My feet strained at the silk scarves that held me and he slapped at them again, sharp-sharp, and I stopped, quivering, holding myself. He took two fingers and split my pussy wide open. He held it there, a fleshy and trembling cup, and filled it with Cristal. It was incredible. It tingled and burned and thrilled me. And when his tongue entered the cup and lapped at the Champaign, as he drank it from my pussy, I felt the orgasm rising in me, higher and higher, utterly out of control – — until he slapped my diso