Free The Harem by Paul Preston Page B

uncomfortable showing my body to another person.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s disgusting. To quote Flaccid Bastard, I’m a fat piece of shit…”
    A fiery look came into Jeremy’s eyes. His hands closed into fists.
    “I told you, fuck him. I wish I could have him alone in a room for five minutes. He’d apologize to you, Cynthia, through chipped teeth.”
    “That would be very chivalrous of you, but let’s face it. He was right. I am a fat piece of—”
    That was the moment he pounced, like a jaguar in the Serengeti, on his unsuspecting prey. Before I could say “shit”, his tongue was half way down my throat. He pressed his large frame against me and I was surprised to see he was already rock-hard down there. He kissed me roughly, almost violently, sucking and nibbling on my lips, neck and earlobes. He had my shirt unbuttoned and my bra falling off my shoulders before I could even react. I’ll have to say, I didn’t expect the attack at that moment. He’s good. When he brazenly grabbed the waist band of my jeans and snapped it open, I gave him a firm push away and managed to escape from his clutches briefly. I quickly kneeled down, my breasts swaying toward the floor like overripe melons, and picked up my shirt and bra, while watching my tiger out of the corner of my eye. He opened a drawer and pulled out a little black bag and zipped it open. While he was fooling with the bag, I figured I had my best chance to escape. I ran across the room, clutching my clothes to my bobbing breasts. But by the time I reached for the doorknob, I suddenly felt him grab my wrists and pull them behind my ass. My shirt and bra dropped to the floor and I heard the click of metal upon metal. While thinking to myself, “Did he just handcuff me?” he reached around in one swift motion and pulled my jeans and panties to my ankles.
    “What are you doing?” I finally managed to say.
    “I’m sorry, Cynthia, I want to give you a massage and you’ve given me no other choice.”
    He picked me up with ease, carried me across the room and deposited me face down on the massage table. I tried to wiggle and squirm, but he instantly wrapped some kind of long silky rope tightly around my legs and under the table, immobilizing me. I felt him remove my panties, stockings and shoes. Once I realized I could not get any more naked and I could no longer move, the massage became inevitable. Though I calmed down, breathing deeply in and out, my heart was still pounding in my chest. Once I was breathing normally, I heard the sound of oil being squeezed out of a tube and smelled an almond scent. He started with my neck and shoulders, finding all the knots where I hold my tension, and pressed into the spots with his thumbs until the knots released. He went up and down my spine, worked on the tightness in the small of my back and massaged over the back of my arms, slowly squeezing down them until he got to my wrists. I heard the cuffs click open and he positioned my arms at my sides. He squeezed the tension completely out of the tips of each one of my fingers. I listened to the sounds of the rainforest and finally relaxed. It was magnificent.
    “Feeling OK, Cynthia?”
    “Mmmm,” I moaned, unable to form words.
    “Tell me about yourself, Cynthia. Where do you work?”
    I was so relaxed I could hardly speak.
    “High school English teacher, at Richard Montgomery, reading “Old Man and the…”
    I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
    “I love that book. Richard Montgomery, huh? I went to Rockville High, played linebacker, you guys always seemed to beat us every year.”
    “Yeah, we have a good football…”
    He moved down to my ass, sliding his slick fingers through the cleavage of my cheeks, spreading them apart and rubbing his palm over my most private spot. I breathed out and relaxed for him there. He rubbed down the tight muscles on the back of my thighs and calves, squeezing the tension out of my ankles, feet and toes. Jeremy untied the ropes