It was the first of December, a vicious, cold sleet drove across the grey cobblestones to announce the new month. It was already darkening, the soft glow of streetlights providing a weak light reflected in the recent snow. My head was buried as deeply as possible in the upturned collar of my overcoat. I was lost in my own thoughts. I needed to get laid. It had been weeks. I was getting desperate.
In my melancholic reverie I walked right past the old lady until she called out. I passed the hoary, battered woman every day; her spot was between the subway and my office building. I always tossed her a few coins; I remember what it’s like to be poor.
“Hey Armani! No coins today? Where’s your Xmas spirit?”
I shuffled back to her, somewhat ashamed. I could afford to be generous. She always called me 'Armani' because I wore nice suits; a few were, in fact, Armani. I always wondered if the old crone made a lucky guess or if she really knew an Armani from a Kmart.
“Sorry beautiful, my mind was elsewhere.” I saw her puff up a little at that and I felt a little better. Pulling out a thick roll of bills I peeled off a twenty and offered it to the old beggar. I could see her eyeing the impressive wad, the avaricious expression on her grime encrusted face was almost comical.
“Say Armani, got something really special that I’ll sell you for a hundred. Guaranteed to get you laid.” She cackled gleefully, her mirth revealing the tumbled, broken tombstones of her blackened teeth.
Could she read my mind? I was intrigued but wary as she rummaged through the filthy mountain of bags surrounding her. Finally she brought out what looked like a calendar made of wood. The workmanship was incredible, it looked exotically expensive. The moment I saw it I suddenly wanted it more than anything else in the world.
“It’s an Advent calendar,” the tattered creature of rags cooed. ”A magical one.”
The calendar had five irregular rows of small wooden doors, each with miniature black metal hinges and a tiny handle. A minute keyhole was located in the lower right corner of each door. She pressed an ancient, ornate key, perhaps four centimetres in length, into my hand, as though the transaction had already concluded. As I passed over five twenties I had the sudden suspicion I had made a pact with the devil.
She explained that the Advent calendar provided a different sexual adventure behind each tiny door. You could choose only one sexual adventure by entering the key in the chosen door and turning it to the right a quarter turn. Once you turned the key that door would appear as a portal that could be used to enter the adventure. You could open any door, the magic was only activated by the key and all the other doors of the Advent calendar would just open to hand-painted pictures without the key. Each door showed a hand-painted number in the top right corner and a single, rather obscure symbol in its centre. Some looked oriental but most looked like hieroglyphics. A couple of the symbols looked alien. All were indecipherable.
When I took the calendar into my hand an electric thrill surged through my body. Dropping a hundred bucks on the poor old crone felt right and there was definitely something magical about the calendar. I was sceptical but my recent sex drought left me ready to try anything. Tucking the calendar under my coat I hurried for home, anxious to get started.
I stared at the calendar, swirling Glenfiddich around the heavy glass in my hand. It seemed wise to open a few doors without the key, narrowing the odds of what remained as a choice. I chose a door with an intricate triangle symbol. It opened to a couple in the missionary position. Boring. I couldn’t help myself; I immediately opened a second door. It seemed to be some kind of orgy. Interesting but I really just wanted one woman.
Three days later I found myself staring at the remaining unopened doors trying to decode the symbols and artwork. Each opened door had significantly increased my now rampant sexual frustration.
The simple beauty of a Chinese character caught my eye. My fingertips slowly worked the key into the keyhole. I took a deep breath and turned the key. Closing my eyes I opened the tiny wooden door feeling a sudden weightlessness. Eyes sparking open I found myself standing in a small room, all white, completely bare of furniture.
A pretty, elfin blonde stood there, diaphanous folds of lavender chiffon circled her body as though she was surrounded by a soft vapour.
“Welcome. You chose the Surrender adventure.”
I grinned. The thought of having a nubile beauty acquiescing to my every sexual demand sounded like exactly what I needed. I’d exhaust myself exploring the possibilities. Already I was picturing the images in my head, a mad romp of writhing flesh swirling through my mind. First I was going to fuck her mouth as she knelt in front of me then I was going to take her from behind until I couldn’t come anymore.
I closed my eyes picturing a rather carnal blonde, filmy lingerie askew, looking up expectantly. Imagined my thick, raging erection pushing between pink lipstick smeared lips, already swollen from the violence of our kissing. My hand circling the back of her head to twist in her long hair; encouraging her head forward with considerable conviction.
It was so vivid; the fervent pressure around my cock, cheeks hollowing as she began to please me. Giving her mouth to me as she offered me her throat. Pushing deeper, saliva and pre-cum leaking around my cock as I use her. My hand clutching her hair, tighter, not cruelly but making sure she understands; every drop will be swallowed. Her choked gasp, her eyelids fluttering as she takes me, hoovering my shaft as I slide into her to the hilt. I could almost feel the shuddering bursts of the first fantasy orgasm.
As she swallows her eyes meet mine, an imploring gaze with the clear shine of desire. I watch myself pushing her head down to the floor, her pert ass perched in the air. I’ll roughly slide my fingers into her cunt already sopping with demand. Overcome by my hunger I’ll plunge my cock into her from behind. Hands circling her neck I fuck her with wild abandon, our bodies a blur of scorching, thrashing flesh.
In my thoughts her hips thrust frantically, determined to meet every challenge, satisfy my every desire, to surrender herself completely. The illusory metallic ratchet of handcuffs jars the images in my mind conjuring a view of a naked back, wrists cuffed, silken skin dappled with moisture. Hair tangled, cum trailing down her taut inner thighs as I drive my cock into her again and again.
A delicious vision of her wanting more, begging, needing, craving more. Her willingness to be used, to offer herself completely. Absolute submission. A fuck doll.
I shook my head, attempting to clear the fevered visions. I was so intensely aroused I found it almost alarming. My heartbeat hammered in my chest, each pulse a heavyweight punch. I was vibrating with excitement and anticipation.
“I can see you’re already quite prepared for your adventure. You must have chosen well.” She was looking rather pointedly at my obviously engorged cock asserting itself against the unforgiving fabric of my pants. Her green eyes sparkled in merriment.
“Yes, I can’t wait to get started.”
“Then let’s begin. Walk through the portal and your adventure will be revealed.” She partially turned, pointing with her right hand to indicate a doorway that suddenly trembled into view against a previously solid wall.
I took a few hesitant steps forward.
“Don’t worry,” the blonde murmured. “The Surrender adventure is our most popular.”
With that encouragement I stepped boldly through the aperture.
As the doorway closed behind me I heard the snick of a lock followed by muffled laughter. I was surrounded by a murky darkness that extended beyond the physical and seemed to occupy my entire being. Carefully I sought a path through the misty haze that fogged my senses. I suddenly grasped that my wrists were handcuffed behind my back. I could feel the harsh bite of steel against the bone. I was having difficulty breathing and it took a moment to recognize I was wearing a ball gag.
As my vision cleared a stunning blonde wavered in to focus, dressed head to toe in blue latex, standing a few paces in front of me. She was wearing a huge black strap-on. In her right hand she was carrying a collar and leash.
It was the rubbery taste of the ball gag that brought me fully alert to a dawning realization…
There was no safe word.
