You don't have to read my first story to know what it is going on. I am simply using the same characters.

Enjoy!

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“Don’t…move…” Mason growls, his breath warm and moist against my bare, fluttering stomach as the fingers of one hand biting painfully into the flesh of my hip as he attempts to keep me captive. His stubble chafing my sensitive skin as he draws my navel ring between his teeth and yanks and twists aggressively and a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as his actions cause me to squeal and wriggle in a mixture of pleasure and slight protest. “Arianna, what did I just say?" he turns his face into my inner thigh and nips at the tender flesh.“I just told you not to move…you’re going to mess up my masterpiece.”

“I never realized you were so artistic,” I tease, as I lift my head from my pillow and glance down at the happy face, heart and the number 25 that he’s drawing -with the end of a piece of red licorice as a pen and chocolate sauce as the ink- on my lower stomach.

I seriously don’t know how I got caught up in this mess; the entire bed is littered with remnants of every one of my favorite snacks -everything from mini multicolored marshmallows, licorice and sour candies to chocolate sauce and fresh strawberries- and my naked and thoroughly ravaged body held prisoner by the two neckties wrapped around my wrists and then attached to the headboard.

“This isn’t very fair you know,” I complain, watching as he -clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs that make his ass and his impressive package look insanely wonderful- dips the end of the licorice into a small dish of chocolate syrup and then draws a circle around my navel. “Why am I the only one that’s naked?”

“There’s no reason for me to be naked,” he reasons, and then once again coats the tip of the candy in the sticky sauce before grinning slyly and adding: “At least not yet.”

“You’re so difficult,” I huff, biting back a squeal while my back arched clear off the bed when he purposefully allows chocolate to drip into my belly button.

“What did I say?” he scowls, and grips my hip even tighter and forces me down onto the mattress. “I told you to lie still Arianna. You’re screwing things up. Just lie there and be a good girl and let me finish.”

“When do you ever not get to finish?” I retort, and heaving an exasperated sigh, drop my head back onto my pillow and tightly screw my eyes shut. “It’s not as easy as you think, Mason. Trying to stay still while someone is messing with you like this. How would you feel if I tied you to the bed and tortured you buy pouring chocolate all over your dick?”

“I would fucking love it,” he concludes. “You could make your own chocolate éclair out of me. Isn’t that one of your favorite treats? Don’t you love éclairs? I’ll be your own personal one. Chocolate covered and cream filled.”

“You’re horrible,” I grumble.

“Terrible,” he agrees, and commences putting the finishing touches on his ‘painting’.

The myriad of sensations assailing my body are almost too much to bear; the cool rumbled sheets under my flushed and aching body, the fabric of the ties cutting into my wrists, the friction of his stubble against my skin, the press of his fingers into my hip and the gentle swirl of the sticky, warm chocolate mixed with the scrape of the licorice. All of my senses are in overdrive; the smell of all the treats combined with the unmistakable musky scent of sex and the taste of strawberry, chocolate and bodily fluids -of the male persuasion- clinging to my lips.

Has anyone ever been sexually tortured to death? Died from insane pleasure? Been fucked into oblivion? Imagine having to be the poor bastard in charge of writing that obituary? I can only ponder about my parents’ reactions when they see the crime scene photos of my lifeless body tied to the bed and covered in a buffet of goodies and…

“There!” Mason suddenly chirps, and I open my eyes and raise my head from the pillow just as he sits back on his heels between my splayed legs and admires his handiwork. “Check out my masterpiece. I’m a regular Monet.”

“Monet painted landscapes,” I inform him, and he gives a shrug and sucks the remaining chocolate sauce of the end of the licorice before biting off a huge piece and requesting that I ‘stay right there’ before scrambling off the bed. “Oh no way…” I shake my head vigorously and struggle against my bonds as he scoops the digital camera off the nightstand. “…there’s no way you’re taking a picture of me. Not like this.”

“I’m just taking a couple of my art work,” he says. “Nothing down south or up north. Just in the middle.”

“This is taking pervy to a whole new level,” I complain. “I agreed to the tying me up and using my body as your own personal smorgasbord, but pictures? This is beyond creepy, Mason.”

“It’s not like I’m taking pictures of you playing with yourself or anything like that. Or filming us having sex. Which a lot of couples do, by the way. For their own personal future use. Don’t you think that’s kind of hot? Having a starring role in a porno that you can watch while we’re fucking? I think it’s hot.”

“I think you’re seriously fucking disturbed,” I grumble.

“Relax…it’s just a couple of little pictures. For my eyes only. Just of my piece de resistance. That’s all. I promise I won’t take anything above or below, okay? No one will ever see these pictures," he says, and then snaps off a couple and checks the images in the LCD screen before powering down the camera and returning it to the bedside table. “Now what’s next?” he inquires, that playful sparkle returning to his eyes and a mischievous, boyish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he surveys all of the food and then gobbles up the remains of his licorice as he admires my naked form. “I think I’m in the mood for…” he chews on his bottom lip as he considers the options. “…one of these…” he scoops up a marshmallow and climbs back onto the bed. “…you like these, right babe?” he asks, as he places one end between his teeth as he leans over me.

I nod in agreement and once more lift my head from the pillow as he brings his face within mere inches of mine; forcing me to struggle against my restraints in order to close my own teeth around the exposed end of the marshmallow. “You’re a fucking bastard!” I bellow in exasperation after he backs away several times; chuckling the entire time and highly amused by my futile battle.

“You be nice to me Arianna,” he warns, as he finally lets me bite off my share of the treat. “You’re the one that’s tied up, non? I’m the one that put you there, remember? I could always leave you like this; go down and spend the rest of the night at a club. Bring back some bi-curious or full out lesbian waitress to join us.”

“You wouldn’t,” I scowl.

He gives a devilish grin and then wriggles his eyebrows before leaning into me once again. It’s the first time he’s allowed me to kiss him since this whole fiasco began; he’s been insistent with his teasing and has either pulled away just as our mouths touched, or ran the tip of the tip of his tongue along my lips before laughing hysterically and bailing on me completely. Now our lips move sinuously against each other and his tongue, while insistent, is unbelievably soft and patient as it glides against mine. I want nothing more than to break free; tunnel my fingers in his hair and dig my nails into his scalp or explore -and marvel over- the muscles in his shoulders and back as they bulge, ripple and twist under my touch.

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“Untie me,” I order against his lips, and he shakes his head and attempts to pull away.

“I said untie me!” I insist, and clamp my teeth down on his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin and draw blood.

“Son-of-a-fucking-bitch!” he hisses, and causes even more damage to himself when he recoils. “You…” shaking his head in a mixture of dismay and disappointment, he places two fingers against his injury and then surveys the blood that’s left behind; an almost wolfish grin spreading from ear to ear. “…you are a bad girl, Arianna. A very bad girl. I think you deserve to be punished for that, don’t you? I think you deserved to be…I don’t know…” he sneaks an arm under the small of my back, hoists me off the bed and uses his free hand to smack my ass; a vicious, ringing slap that echoes throughout the room and both brings tears to my eyes and causes me to cry out.

And totally turns me on.

“Untie me!” I beat my heels against the bed and strain against the ties holding me captive. “Untie me, right now goddamn it!”

“I’ll untie you…but first…” he runs the tips of two fingers along his bloody lip and then shoves them into my mouth. “…first I have something else planned for you, little girl. You trust me?”

“What are you going to do?” my eyes widen and slight panic settles in when I see him reach for a black and white checkered scarf and then holding the corners in his hands and roughly snaps the fabric. “…what are you going to do?” I repeat. “Seriously, Mason…what…?”

“Do you trust me?” he asks once more, that almost threatening tone to his voice and the darkness in his eyes immediately lifting. “If you don’t trust me…”

“I trust you,” I assure him. “With my life. You think I’d let you do all of this if I didn’t?”

“I love you,” he says, and then presses a tender kiss to my lips. “You know this is all in fun, right? That when I talk like this and I act like this…”

“We both enjoy it,” I conclude. “A lot. It’s just playing. I know that. I know you’re not really like this.”

“I won’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable with, Arianna. If you get weirded out or anything…”

“I’ll tell you to stop,” I promise, and he kisses me once more before placing one of his large palms behind my head and lifting it off the pillow. “I’m a little scared,” I admit, as he covers my eyes with the scarf and secures it tightly near the nape of my neck.

“I won’t hurt you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Are you okay?”

I nod and then inhaling deeply, release a slow, shaky breath.

“You’ll enjoy it…I promise…” his breath is hot and sweet against my bare skin as he presses a series of feathery kisses across my collarbone, over the tops of my breasts and in the valley in between.

I can’t suppress the shudder that travels through me when his slightly calloused palms and fingertips drift slowly down my sides as he slides his way down the bed. Gripping my hips tightly, he places a single kiss to the inside of each thigh and I feel his stubble brush against the top of my pubic bone as he uses his tongue to clear the chocolate off of my body. His actions are painfully slow and deliberate; his mouth avoiding my aching pussy and the juices that flow freely from it as he concentrates on cleaning me off. I’ve never felt anything so incredible in my life; there’s no words to describe the powerful surge of emotions and sensations that stampede through me at not only the touch of his lips and the press of his fingers in my skin but at the realization that I’m powerless against the way I’m feeling. Sight and touch have been taken away from me and it’s mind blowing to have to rely on my other senses to enjoy the moment.

“Mason…” his name escapes my mouth in a low, throaty moan and my entire body trembles as the tip of his tongue travels up my body and one of his big, strong hands reach up to fondle my breasts and lightly twist and tug at the tiny silver rings that dangle from my painfully hard nipples. “…please don’t tease me anymore…” I plead. “…I don’t think I can take it…please don’t do it…”

“I’m almost finished,” he promises, and sucks on my belly button piercing and pulls at it with his teeth before his mouth continues its ascent. And when he slips one of his hands between my legs and brushes the tips of his fingers against my dripping pussy and takes one of my nipples into his mouth and sucks aggressively, I cry out and arch my entire body clear off the bed. “I’m going to untie you now, okay?” I can hear the lust in his voice; the shakiness in his tone that indicates he’s having a harder time holding himself back than he’s actually letting on. “I’m going to let your hands go but leave the blindfold on…” he gently suckles at one nipple and then the other and then kisses his way up to my lips. “…alright?” he asks, and tenderly brushes my hair off my sweaty forehead.

“Alright…” I meekly agree; my chest heaving as he quickly releases one hand and then the other.

“Roll over onto your stomach…” he instructs. “…keep your eyes covered and roll onto your tummy…”

Rubbing at one chaffed wrist and then the other, I readily obey.

“This is going to be good for you, baby…” trailing the tips of his fingers along the entire length of my spine, he glides his palms over the smooth, globes of my ass and lightly smacks both before lowering his head to press a kiss to the small of my back. “…I promise this is going to be amazing…here…” I feel the mattress shift underneath me and the hair on his arm brush against me as he reaches for something at the top of the bed. “…lift up…” he says, and slips a hand under my tummy and raises me slightly in order to place a pillow underneath me; effectively elevating my hips and my ass. “You are so beautiful, baby…” his voice is intoxicating and I shiver as he slips a hand between my legs and thoroughly coats his fingers with my juices before trailing them over the cheeks of my ass before slipping one finger inside my tight, puckered hole.

I can’t hold back the scream that erupts from my lips; the intrusion is painful yet so incredible and my hips jerk backwards and force his finger further inside of me.

“You like that, huh?” a chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest. “You’re such a dirty little slut, Arianna…all of those people that think you’re just so sweet and innocent…if only they knew how big of a sick and twisted little slut you actually are…”

I let loose an ear piercing, window rattling shriek when he slaps my ass even harder than before and he roughly uses a knee to shove my legs open and then unceremoniously slams his cock inside of me. This is nothing more than a pure, unadulterated fuck; one of his hands is keeping a firm hold on my hip as he continues to finger my ass and pounds into me at a bruising, punishing pace. My fingers claw at the sheets below me and my lungs struggle to gather air as my body continues to be driven into the bed. It’s no doubt that this is most erotic and incredible experience of my life. It’s exceptionally dirty and insanely fast and over before I even have a chance to prepare myself; I scream into the mattress and my head spins and my heart hammers in my chest and I’m vaguely aware of Mason reaching his own completion almost immediately. His hips jerking forward one last time and practically pinning me to the bed and his fingers biting into my hip as he explodes deep inside of me with a long, loud shout that he’s unable to contain.

And my last coherent thought -before my brain and body both short circuit and I black out from the extreme pleasure that courses through me - is once more centered around whether or not someone can be fucked to death.

Because if it’s at all possible, what a hell of an amazing way to go.