Free Edge of Extasy: X is for Xanthe Part One by Issa Cherry

 
    Edge of Extasy
     
    ‘This lace feels so soft!’
    The flimsy white fabric of my bodice gently
constricted against my breasts.
    ‘But I love the touch of leather too!’
    I moaned at the feel of the strap between my
thighs. It was hard and unforgiving.
    Standing with my legs apart with one arm in
front of my body and the other behind. My hands clench each end of
the leather belt threaded between my legs. Swaying my arms back and
forth with increasing speed roughly against my moist slit, I am
almost there.
    ‘I am coming!’
    With two more rubs of the belt I orgasm. The
release is merciful and over all too quickly. My last cries of
pleasure echo around the stone of the cellar walls. Collapsing back
onto the cold reality of satin pillows, I lay for a moment,
trailing my fingers seductively across my lips. Little is left of
the deep red lipstick that I had applied so carefully earlier.
    ‘That’s all for tonight!’
    The announcement is delivered in the
lustiest tones I can muster, before climbing down from the stone
bench that serves as my makeshift stage. Within three paces I reach
the computer and shut down the Webcam.
    My name is Xanthe. I have a sexual secret: I
have never been able to climax with a man.
    Believe me, I have tried. I even slept with
a few women just to make sure it wasn’t a case that I needed to
release my inner-lesbian. All that told me was that it was men I
hungered for: testosterone laden, Adam’s apple bearing,
cock-thrusting males. I want them. I hunger for them. I desire
them. Yet the moment they touch me, I turn cold. No man has ever
managed to light that fire from within me. Every sexual encounter
with a male has left me frustrated.
    Around a year ago after my last awkward
sexual encounter, I decided to find other ways to satisfy my urges.
My live Webcam show evolved from my desire to avoid awkward gropes
in the dark with men who cannot stoke my amour.
    Using my talents from my day job as a
librarian, I began researching sexual fantasies and wondered if
turning on anonymous men, ones who had not been a disappointment
sexually, might be the key. I decided to give it one try. Setting
up a secure Webpage that could not be traced back to me, I joined
some adult Websites and streamed my first broadcast live. I was a
bit nervous at first, reciting some of my most favourite sensual
lines from English literature while I masturbated using various sex
toys. It was a very amateur effort, but it did the trick.
    ‘You’re really hot!’ The private messages
started arriving minutes after I finished my first broadcast.
    ‘I jacked off watching you!’ This meant
success to me! I had managed to get my rocks off and made a few
males happy at the same time. I was hooked.
    ‘When’s your next show?’ they asked.
    Very soon I was making three broadcasts a
week. I would work late, wait for the library to close and for my
staff to go home. Then I would grab my laptop and head back to the
original nineteenth century part of the building. The area was off
limits to students and staff alike. As chief librarian I hold a
master key to the area below. Downstairs is a hidden oasis
forgotten by everyone: including campus security. Unlocking the
door at the end of a narrow vestibule, I escaped into my secret
world. Descending the stone stairs to the large cellar space,
familiar tingles would begin to grow. My excitement far exceeded
the anticipation I once felt before a physical rendezvous with a
man.
    From deep within the crevices of the
Victorian gothic architecture of the college’s library building I
would drag out the rest of my private show time ‘kit’ of assorted
satin pillows and cushions, lingerie, and scarves. I used a set of
small portable theatre lights to illuminate my small performance
stage. Oh yes, and various phallus substitutes to make the show
extra exciting!
    I chose the setting because it was just
perfect: at night it looked like it could be the dungeon of a real
English castle, where I