
Journalist Sasha Grey is given a tour of the historic Armory by new owners Kink.com. She confesses to Steven St. Croix that BDSM is not her thing. On the contrary, later that evening she becomes aroused from the topic of the day. In her dreams, she searches for a new sexual identity and discovers her submissive side. The dream sequence is beautifully shot and Sasha looks amazing helplessly bound. She loves getting fucked while restrained and her orgasms are not to be missed.

Journalist Sasha Grey is given a tour of the historic Armory by new owners Kink.com. She confesses to Steven St. Croix that BDSM is not her thing. On the contrary, later that evening she becomes aroused from the topic of the day. In her dreams, she searches for a new sexual identity and discovers her submissive side. The dream sequence is beautifully shot and Sasha looks amazing helplessly bound. She loves getting fucked while restrained and her orgasms are not to be missed.
Archive-name: Violent/gift.txt
Archive-author:
Archive-title: Gift, The
The fast busy signal droned at Adrienne almost spitefully.
“Damn!” She slammed the receiver back down onto the cradle and
stared accusingly at the phone. How could he be talking to someone else
just at the moment she needed to talk to him? She half-considered trying
again, but then decided against it. No, this time she would just have to
deal with her husband’s idiocy without the patient ear and compassionate
support of her friend. It was just as well, she mused. There wasn’t much
he could do about it anyway.
Turning away from the row of pay phones, Adrienne picked up her
purse and started through the hotel lobby toward the elevators. The sights
and sounds of life on-going around her did not intrude on her bitter
internal thoughts, and few remarked her passage. She was sure of it now –
her husband WAS having an affair. The ticket receipts and phone records
had more than satisfied her mind on that subject. The fact that she and her
husband had not made love in more than six months was now only a
secondary matter. Her hate, she thought as she stepped into the empty
elevator, would get her through the now inevitable divorce and beyond. She
had faith in this.
Why, then, was she crying?
As the elevator doors opened on the abandoned corridors of her floor,
Adrienne tossed her hair back, scowled, and stalked determinedly down
the hall toward her room. She was NOT going to let this tear her to pieces.
That would be to admit defeat. She keyed her door and reached for the
light switch just inside, distractedly contemplating another fun-filled
evening of jealousy with the actresses making their starring debuts in
whatever adult films the hotel cable station was offering this evening.
Business trips could be such a drag at times.
The room remained dark.
Annoyed, Adrienne flipped the wall switch several times, more as a
physical vent of frustration than a means to turn the lights on. Still, the
room remained dark. “Goddammed hotel,” she muttered, and opened the door
fully to let the light from the hall lamps illuminate her way as she
crossed her hotel room to switch on the table lamp. This was just turning
out to be her day.
As she reached the table the door slipped quietly shut behind her.
Adrienne momentarily froze, the sudden blanket of complete
darkness around her evoking an irrational twinge of panic drawn out of a
childhood replete with fears of the dark and solitude. She quickly
suppressed these feelings, slightly disappointed in herself for having
reacted to something so minor. “Goddammed hotel,” she sighed, as she felt
across the table for the lamp and then turned the switch.
Still, the room remained dark.
For a moment Adrienne thought that perhaps a fuse had blown and
that she would have to call down to the desk for someone to check it out.
However, the apathetic glare of the clock radio on the night stand
reassured her that this was not the case. It was more likely a burned-out
lightbulb. She leaned over to reach up further into the lamp and remove the
damaged bulb, hoping to replace it with one from the bathroom.
Her searching fingers found an empty socket just as the cold edge of
a serrated blade impressed itself lightly on the flesh of her throat.
Adrienne’s body went rigid with fear. How could she have been so
stupid… she should have suspected something when she opened the door…
A hand gently but firmly grasped her shoulder and pulled her to stand
up. Adrienne’s mind suddenly went blank – she was about to die… here in
this hotel room… and no one would know. Or care.
The hand lifted the purse from her shoulder, and for a blessed
instant Adrienne prayed that this was merely a robbery. The hand,
however, returned to her shoulder, and then slowly slid down the length of
her arm and then back up, continuing across her shoulder to the nape of her
neck and forward to study the curve of her face, then stroking her hair as
it fell down her shoulders, onto her back and down the slope of her
buttocks…
Adrienne gasped sharply as it became painfully obvious that this
would not merely be a robbery. Her slight motion resulted in a more
insistent pressing of the knife against her throat, and Adrienne fought to
repress a rising scream.
Deftly, the hand removed her jacket without disturbing the position
of the knife and allowed it to slide to the floor.
Oh God, how could this be happening…
The hand returned, this time alighting just below the knife, and with
infinite care, began unbuttoning her blouse.
A tear of resignation rolled fitfully down Adrienne’s cheek as she
silently cursed her husband and locked her gaze on the sterile glow of the
clock radio across the room, willing herself a million miles away.
Her blouse was pulled out from her skirt and the remaining buttons
unclasped. The hand then strayed up the middle of her back and in an
instant had unhooked her bra. In a tender, almost tentative motion, the
hand slid under her arm and around to trace the curve of her breast.
Adrienne trembled slightly and closed her eyes tightly. She tried
desperately to think of other times – times in her younger days when such
contact would have sent her mind reeling in delightful anticipation of
shared pleasure. She remembered her college beau, whose first tender
caresses had shattered her inhibitions and awakened her womanhood. She
could feel him now, gently cupping her breast, squeezing and stroking in
ways he knew would drive her crazy. Relaxing slightly, she savoured the
remembrance of moments long lost in the bustle of her present life, and
for the first time she noticed a scent – an almost untraceable hint of
cologne – that was somehow familiar, somehow reassuring…
A slight tugging between her breasts roused her from her reverie as
the knife slid easily through the flimsy material of the front of her bra,
releasing the opposite sides. The hand then played across her chest,
pushing aside the useless garments and exploring her in motions that
seemed designed specifically to tantalize. It was strange, she thought – he
seemed to know what she liked, seemed to want to please her. It wasn’t
supposed to be like this… was it? Why wasn’t she more afraid? She once
again felt the tip of the knife at her throat, this time tracing delicately
across and up to a point below her ear, then down the side of her neck and
lightly to her now erect nipple. To her surprise, she realized that the ache
in the pit of her stomach was due more to excitement than to fear – she
was actually enjoying this! After years of perceived stability and
mediocrity, she found herself entranced by the sinister attentions of this
dark stranger. In this terrifying moment she felt more alive than she had
in years…
The knife continued its course, highlighting the curve of her breast
and then moving down across her stomach to slide delicately under the
material of her skirt following the curve of her hip and lower. The
presence of the knife so close to her most vital area exhilarated her – the
sense of danger heightening her excitement rather than filling her with
dread. Slowly the knife was withdrawn, and the hand slid steadily
downward across her stomach and skirt, forming the curve of her thigh as
the fingers slid between her legs and pushed her back against him briefly.
Through their clothing, she could distinguish the shape of his intent – a
sensation which intrigued as well as frightened her, as if she were once
again a virgin. A moment later she felt the cold flat edge of the blade
against the back of her neck, sending exciting chills throughout her frame
as it steadily moved slowly down the length of her spine.
A moan escaped her, surprising her with its earnest tone of longing.
The knife once again disappeared, replaced this time with an empty,
stroking hand that pulled her blouse and remnants of her bra over her
shoulders and dropped them to the floor. Distractedly she realized that he
was no longer holding the knife and that she might now be able to escape
if she really wanted to… but she was no longer sure that she really wanted
to.
Brushing her thick hair aside, the stranger brought his lips to the
nape of her neck, teasing the hairs with his tongue and breath as he
reached around to push his hands once again across her stomach and
between her legs, sliding the material of her skirt sensuously over her
skin and forcing her to lean back into him. He shifted his hips deliciously
against her as he stroked, and slowly she found herself moving with him.
As his hands worked her skirt slid upward, allowing him finally to caress
the hot sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. Reaching back with one hand to
unbutton the top of her skirt, he then plunged both hands inside her
clothing in a motion that drew her skirt and panties partway down her
hips. He teasingly explored her, kneading and probing gently in places no
one had ever though to before, and then in an unexpected movement slipped
a finger into her desperate warmth. In a moment of sheer delight she
reached up and caressed his face lovingly, almost in disbelief that such
exquisite sensations could be real and have remained hidden from her for
so long.
Withdrawing his hands once again, he brushed her remaining clothing
down over her hips and onto the floor, then stopping briefly to dispense
with his own. A moment later he ran his palms down her sides and
embraced her as he softly kissed her neck and shoulders. Seeking to
reciprocate, Adrienne reached behind her and tentatively caressed her
unknown lover. Running her hands slowly down his sides and back, down
the curve of his buttocks, she discovered that he was much more muscular
than her husband, much more firmly toned…
He stepped closer, and to her delight she realized that he was also
much larger.
As he moved against her, his organ pressed against the soft flesh of
her buttocks, sliding deliciously down between her legs. Unconsciously,
she parted her legs to him slightly, and he shifted forward, exciting her
even more with his nearness. The ache in her stomach intensified almost
to the point of being unbearable – she wanted him more than she had ever
wanted anyone before. As if sensing this, he leaned forward over her,
forcing her to bend under him, and then thrust upward suddenly, catching
her unexpectedly and causing her to gasp in surprise. He moved away
slightly and then thrust again, his size and strength amazing her with
every motion.
After a moment he withdrew, peaking her desire by denying her what
she so longed for, and then, placing his hands firmly on the back of her
neck and stomach, urged her forward onto the bed, his grip preventing her
from turning or deviating from his command. At his direction she crawled
forward across the mattress and then stopped, waiting. She felt the bed
shift under his weight as he knelt on the edge behind her. For a moment
she was unsure, having never done this quite this way before, but the
touch of his expert hands on her back reassured her. Once again he stroked
down the front of her thighs and then back up, massaging all hesitancy out
of her muscles. Suddenly he forced her back as he thrust forward, and
Adrienne once again found herself on the way to heaven. With every
motion, she felt the smooth muscles of his thighs slide against the backs
of her own, his hands kneading her back and shoulders and guiding her to
accept more and more of him unfailingly. He touched her in ways her
husband never could, driving her quickly and inexorably toward the brink
of fulfillment. The sound of her blood racing in her ears prevented her
from hearing his labored breathing as her lover approached his climax, so
his final powerful thrust caught her unaware and sent her mind spiralling
uncontrollably into the void of ecstasy. The strength in her arms
disappeared and she nearly fell forward obliviously, but he held her up,
embracing her tenderly as they rocked together with the last touches of
orgasm.
As reality inevitably returned to Adrienne’s clouded mind, he placed
his hands on her hips and moved her forward away from him and then down
onto the bed. She felt him leave the mattress, and then a moment later
throw the bedcovers over her completely. Through the blanket she heard
the muffled sounds of him re-dressing and suddenly realized that he was
about to leave – he who had fulfilled a fantasy and re-introduced her to
her own passionate side, and she didn’t even know who he was. She leaned
up, struggling to escape the blankets, and cried, “Wait…”
Before she could continue, she felt him sit on the edge of the bed
close to her. Through the blanket a gentle hand stroked her face lovingly,
speaking more than words could ever relate. Then in a flash the hand was
gone and the door clicked shut behind him.
The next morning Adrienne packed her things and left her room,
bound for home. Her mind remained blank as she rode the elevator down to
the lobby and then crossed through the series of shops toward the main
desk. One of the shops – a boutique opposite the main entrance, attracted
her attention. Like an automaton she turned and walked into it, ignoring
the smile of the register attendant as she passed. Moving directly to one
aisle, she made her selection and approached the register.
As she rung up the bill, the attendant said, “Kouros… a fine choice.”
Adrienne handed the attendant her credit card and carefully placed
the bottle of cologne into her purse. “Yes, I know. I bought it for a dear
friend of mine as a Christmas gift last year.”
—