This is my entry to Exhibit A’s Sinful Stories competition. Many thanks to Exhibit A for also allowing his lovely Sinful Sunday photo “Shop Window” to be used as a prompt for the contest.
I attempted something a little fanciful here and am very likely punching above my weight as far as the style goes, but it was definitely fun to write.
As usual,the shadows do not reveal his face, just a slash of cheekbone and a swath of light hair illuminated by the lamps on the street. The rest of him is a bit clearer, muscled arms stretched taught above his head, strong legs spread, pressing into the floor, out of sight. I walk by as slowly as I can manage without drawing attention to myself and wonder for the hundredth time if he is bound by ankles as well as by wrists. Are there thick metal manacles? chains? Do they hurt? Do they feel heavy? How can he stand it, so many eyes on him all day. If I can only save enough coins, maybe I can buy his freedom.
She’s walked by every day since I’ve been here. Slowing to a crawl, trying to not be noticed, furtively looking up as she passes below, licking her lips, gripping her books a little more tightly to her chest. I can practically see her counting her pennies in her head as she passes.
“You won’t have enough, sweetheart.” I whisper to myself and smile.
Through the shop window on the main floor, I see her walking past with her books and her sweet little glances upward. I know what she wants and I know what I’m doing. Don’t I spend time every afternoon making sure he looks appropriately objectified?
My shoulders are starting to ache, the bindings at my wrists firm and biting. The discomfort combined with the thought of her fingers at my wrists, her breasts thrust deliberately into my face as she stands on the stool to bind me, is all it takes to keep me hard putting on this window show.
Every night I devote myself to thoughts of him in the window. I’ll find a way into his room, remove his heavy bonds, and drop them onto the floor with a satisfying thud. I’ll hold his wrists in my hands and sooth oil into his chafed skin, up his arms and down his back, working at the tight muscles until they are loose and warm, glistening in the light from the street. I’ll place his foot in my lap, rub oil into his ankles and arches and up his calves, first one, then other, digging deep, working my hands up to his thighs, looking up at him for permission, bringing my lips to the head of his jutting cock. Watching people on the street from the corner of my eye as I take him into my mouth.
I wonder if the little librarian can see how hard I am. Does she have illusions of rescue? Does she know I’m right where I belong? Still, if allowed, I wouldn’t mind keeping her for a while. Tie her to the window, watch the blush creep up her cheeks as people walk by below. Follow the blush with my fingertips. Kneel behind her and sink my teeth into one sweet globe, then kiss her softly there, over the marks left by my incisors. Would she crave it like I do? I think she would.
It’s getting late. Certainly there’s been time enough for the earnest bookworm to get her eyeful and for the rest of my patrons to book rooms for the night. I lock the front door and head upstairs. Don’t think I haven’t stepped across the street to see how he fares. Of course he knows I do it, can see me there admiring him, so he puffs up a little, making sure the light hits his cock and his shoulders in the most flattering way.
I open the door with a faint click and slip into the room, taking a moment to admire his back, his ass, he has such a lovely bottom.
She thinks she’s being silent but I hear her come into the room. I always do. The whisper click of the door being opened, then her breath, speeding up ever so slightly as she stares at my back. I pretend to not notice, but in front of me I see a couple walking down the street glance up at me, out of her view, my cock grows a little larger.
I don’t have long to wait until I feel her standing directly behind me. Sometimes she puts on a show of her own. Sucking me off in front of the window, my hands still tied above my head, streetlight shining off her saliva on my cock. I hold my breath, hoping that this might be one of those nights. I feel the cold as she leaves my side and goes to pull over the stool. She stands up to untie me, thrusting her breasts into the side of my face. I desperately want to reach out a tongue and lick her tantalizing nipple, but I know I haven’t been given leave. Yet.
“Go ahead and suck it my darling, I know you want to.”
Greedily he takes my nipple into his mouth as I continue to untie his restraints. I gasp as he bites down on my now hard nipple.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I tsk and hold his chin in my fingers as I step off the stool and away from his mouth. “None of that just at the moment. You’ll have plenty of time when I’m done.”
I get home and count the coins in my jar. Tomorrow, I’ll approach her with an offer. There’s something about the way he is displayed there that fills me with longing. I need to do something. To rescue him, I think. Though sometimes, I imagine myself in the window. Everyone in the street below watching me, him behind me in the room, watching me being watched. The thoughts usually come unbidden but when they do, it’s a flash of heat followed by a blush. Of course, I could never, tied up in the window…
I shake my shoulders and twist my wrists. Not too sore, slightly tingly. She watches me quietly until I am standing still, at ease, waiting for her to speak.
“You may undress me now,” she says.
I feel her breath hitch ever so slightly as I start undoing the buttons at the back of her neck.
I step up to the door of the shop. I’m shaking with nerves but I can’t turn back now. My shoulder bag feels like it’s full of bricks, a few coins in a jar shouldn’t weigh so much..
“Ah, I knew you would come. I’ve been waiting for you to get up the courage.”
“You, you have?” she stammers out.
“Of course. I’ve seen you walking by, staring up at my window. I know what you want, my dear.”
“You do?” she asks quietly.
“Of course, you think I can’t see the longing in your eyes? Now, I know you’ve been staring up at the window, but that is a very, very expensive position. My prized spot, of course it isn’t cheap. D himself would not have been able to afford it for so long, however he recently came into a fairly significant inheritance. But, I digress. There are some slightly more affordable posts on the main floor. Not quite as much public exposure, but I do arrange discreet tours so you would certainly be observed. Let me show you around…”
Sinful Stories 2: Competition Entries | Exhibit A
[…] Counting Pennies, by Maria Sibylla […]
Loved this story! Such a unique angle, I want to try writing in this format sometime. Sexy as hell, too!
Maria, I don’t know why you would think you were “punching above your weight” with this. You scored a knockout! Such a beautiful twist at the end, it just leaves me wanting more, to follow A on her journey beyond this point, but of course this was the perfect spot to finish. I love the way they all misunderstand each other’s desires… or do they? Perhaps M understands A perfectly, far better than A herself does. 😉
Thanks so much for saying so! I’ve never tried anything like this before so I think I was feeling a bit insecure about it when I first posted it. But I’ve had some lovely, encouraging comments about it so I’m excited to keep at it. And yes, I do think A understands herself the least of everyone. 🙂
I totally agree with Lace – I don’t know why you’d think you were punching above your weight with the style as you’ve done a beautiful, beautiful job with it. This is definitely the most atmospheric of all the entries I’ve read. More like this, please!
Thanks so much Charlie!
Sinful Stories 2: Results | Exhibit A
[…] (=). Counting Pennies, by Maria […]