Erotica, Series
The Leatherbound Diaries, Part 2
Studio Voyeur: Cathy witnesses an unexpected sexy scene involving ostrich feathers and ice cubes
I arrived late at the studio today and Paul scolded me for it. I was lucky the model was even later. I was setting up the backdrop and the lights when Monica appeared. She’s one of those women who turns heads wherever she is. Her thick dreads carelessly bound into a knot, she still looked like a star. I suspect her eyes will light up in the dark like a panther’s. She came up to me and asked for a cappuccino. As an intern/assistant, I’m the coffee girl too. And I get lunch for everyone, wash the dishes, take calls and refill the toilet paper dispenser. But I don’t mind because I get to assist Paul during the shoots and he’s promised to teach me everything he knows. I feel lucky.
Monica’s a rope artist. She and Paul started collaborating last year and their first two series of bondage photographs have been quite successful. Monica’s British like me, and she rose to fame after she’d done bondage work for a French film director. The movie won several international prizes and is supposedly the best erotic art film since ‘The Realm of the Senses’.
I’d never heard of that film and looked it up on YouTube. It turned out to be Japanese and from 1976, and there was only a bad quality compilation of scenes available, so I expected little. But after a minute and a half, there was a scene where the two principal characters, who are lovers, are riding in a carriage. They seem to be just leaning against each other sleepily, but then she says to him that ‘she can’t’. ‘Why,’ he asks, and she mentions her period. He then pulls his hand out from underneath her kimono and holds up two fingers. He looks at the small trickles of blood on them and then puts his fingers in his mouth, relishing the taste. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he says and without even looking at her he puts his fingers back underneath her kimono. She smiles happily at him and rests her head on his shoulder while he supposedly continues to finger her. It really amazed me, and another excerpt suggested that strangulation sex was an important part of the characters’ story. I’d still like to see the whole film. Maybe Monica has a copy.
‘Nice shoes,’ she said as I went over to the Faema espresso machine to fix her a cappuccino. ‘Although, of course, the laces should be longer so you could bind them up along your calves.’ I looked down at my wedge heeled espadrilles and the poorly knotted laces around my ankles.
‘But you know me,’ Monica said, ‘I like beautiful things tied up.’ She winked at me and laughed her wicked witch-laugh, as Paul calls it.
The sound of a text arriving on someone’s smartphone echoed through the studio. Paul looked at his Galaxy and sighed. ‘The model’s stuck on the U-Bahn. It will probably take her another fifteen minutes to get here.’
Then the doorbell rang. I put down the coffee tin and went to open the door. It was Dila, and we embraced and kissed. Dila is my best friend here in Berlin. We go out together, binge watch series on her couch and we’re both addicted to horoscopes and sex.
‘My zodiac sucked this morning,’ she said. ‘But yours looked interesting.’
‘Come on,’ I said, ‘it was terrible.’ It had predicted that someone would change my life if I have the courage to travel.
‘Spinst du?’ Dila said to me mockingly, ‘Yours was way better. Mine said I need to eat more vegetables.’
We laughed, and I returned to finish preparing Monica’s cappuccino. Dila went over to Paul and kissed him on the mouth. She does it to wind him up. They’ve been working together for a couple of years already, she’s his favourite makeup artist. Paul smacked Dila’s bum and hissed: ‘Kisses and flattery will get you nowhere. I want your best work today.’
She saluted him. ‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Please don’t call him Sir,’ Monica said, ‘we don’t want him to get used to it.’
‘Drink your cappuccino and shut up Miss Knotty,’ Paul said.
This is pretty much how we talk amongst ourselves, especially Paul and Monica. They’ve bickered since the start of their collaboration. If you didn’t know that Paul had been married for years, you’d think he and Monica were a couple. His wife’s a former model who now runs a successful agency. I don’t know if Monica’s in a relationship, but I do know that she and Paul are having an affair. Last week I came back to the studio after dinner to check on some uploads to a client’s server.
When I heard laughter, I stopped in the hallway and fortuitously, didn’t go into the studio right away. Was it because of how Monica’s laugh had sounded? I don’t even think that I recognised it’s tone because it wasn’t the wicked witch-laugh. What made me peek stealthily into the studio, I still don’t know, but when I saw them, I remained hidden. Monica was leaning with her hands against the backdrop wall, her naked ass up in the air, but still wearing her stockings and shoes. Paul was holding the feather duster that he had brought back from South-Africa after a shoot. It’s made of ostrich feathers which are so extremely soft that I’ve sometimes brushed my face and arms with them.
Paul was stroking Monica’s thighs, pussy and ass with the duster. Monica was giggling and moaning.
‘O God, it tickles! Please don’t stop.’
I felt tingles in my own groin and held my breath as I was afraid to get caught peeping at them.
Paul alternated the tickling caresses with kissing and licking Monica’s sex. Every time he did so, she yelled, ‘Fuck yes!’ I could see that Monica was doing her best to remain standing. She stood spread wide for Paul to see her wet cunt — as I could — while her body was quivering with every touch of the duster, his lips and his tongue. She was clearly relishing the fact that Paul kept control over her body and mind.
‘Fuck, this is hot!’ she muttered under her breath.
Then Paul suddenly stopped and told her to wait. He said he’d got an idea.
‘Where are you going, you little shit?’ Monica screamed. ‘I was about to fucking cum!’ But she remained in place, leaning against the wall.
I watched Paul move over to the ice cube dispenser of the studio’s big American refrigerator. He caught a few in his hand and went back to Monica. I gasped at the idea of what he might do with those ice cubes and held my hand over my mouth to muffle any sound I might make. But my other hand had slipped down to cup my crotch. It was already hot and damp.
Monica looked over her shoulder and guessed what Paul was holding in his hand. ‘You wouldn’t? O God! You would?’
Paul grinned at her and sank to his knees right underneath her. He brushed one of the ice cubes over her lips. She licked it and shivered. He then slid the frozen cube along her neck and moved it down to her voluptuous tits. Her nipple immediately erected as he drew circles around her large chocolate coloured areola. I pressed my legs together, clenching my hand against my pussy lips.
I got more and more aroused as I witnessed Paul sort of limbo dance underneath Monica, moving towards her pussy. She shivered and I could see her goosebumps as he passed her belly. When the ice cube reached her cunt, she groaned loudly. Paul now hunched close to her backside, and took another ice cube between his fingers. He continued to massage her labia with two cubes at once in slow, excruciating circles.
Monica quivered and gasped. I couldn’t imagine what this freezing cold on her hot dripping cunt must’ve felt like, but by now I had unbuttoned my jeans and slid my hand inside my trousers to at least massage my own pussy lips. The slick wetness on my fingers lubed my clit, as I too shivered with delight.
‘Let’s find out how hot you really are, you English slut.’ Paul stood behind Monica.
‘No, you wouldn’t dare!’ Monica gasped, but she remained in the same position and spread her legs wider.
One by one Paul pushed the ice cubes inside her, intently watching the effect it had on her. Monica breathed out with hoarse, staccato grunts and her body shook as if she was standing on a vibrating floor. But the tremors must’ve been coming from the depths of her body as the frozen cubes melted inside her. She came in shuddering waves of pleasure.
Paul took off his pants and boxers, grabbed Monica by the hips and entered her with his long hard cock. Monica screamed even louder, and by the way her body kept on shaking, I suspect more orgasmic waves overwhelmed her one after the other.
I was close to coming myself, and I really wanted to, but I didn’t dare. I knew I would make too much noise. I took my hand out of my knickers and held up my fingers to my face. I looked at the glistening pre-cum and thought of that man in the Japanese movie. I tasted myself and licked my fingers clean. I took another peek at my boss and Monica. He was thrusting himself into her rapidly, obviously eager to come.
She was mumbling, ‘Please don’t stop, daddy, never stop’ and I hoped for her sake he didn’t — at least for some time.
A nasty freezing wind lashed at my face as I came out of the studio. Unlike Monica’s ice cubes, the cold sobered me up. In the nicely heated U-Bahn, I fully realised what I had just witnessed. The entire way back to my apartment, I couldn’t stop giggling. But once there, I went straight to my bedroom and quickly shed my clothes.
I took my favourite suction dildo from the drawer, lubed it and placed it against the headboard. On my hands and knees, I moved towards it with my bum up in the air. When I felt it brushing against me, I didn’t waste any time but pushed it inside and I fucked it while rubbing my clit until I collapsed from the orgasm that I’d had to postpone. It didn’t take long, as the image of Paul’s long slim cock banging in and out of Monica’s dripping wet cunt helped me swiftly over the edge.
Leatherbound Diaries — to be continued…
More from Patricia…
