Fame has its advantages. It also has some uncommon
dissadvantages.

MF, bond, oral (both types), toys

Copyright 2003. All rights reserved by the author (that's
me, Mark Reed). Posted here with permission.

Read at your own risk. If smut offends you, don't read this.
If you're younger than 18, don't read this. 

Thanks to Mycroftxxx for his usual excellent editing, and to
Girl Friday for giving a small reality check, and for just
being very Girl Fridayish in general.

Fame Doth Have 
By Mark Reed 

The door slammed with a loud crack as he threw himself
against it, panting from the exertion of sprinting for half
a mile. He leaned heavily against the door frame, trying not
collapse just yet. He caught his breath for a few moments
while he focused his attention on his senses. The room was
completely silent save for rasping pants of its occupant. He
hadn't had the chance to turn the lights on yet, so the room
was still quite dark. The shadows of his furniture slanted
across the floor of the room, making even blacker spots
amidst the darkness. A half opened window let the faint
moonlight dribble into the house, creating the sole source
of light that allowed him to distinguish anything within the
dim room at all. 

There was something about the window that bugged him. He
tried to clear the exhaustion from his brain; tried to make
reason of the nagging he felt from a small part of his mind.
All he could concentrate on was the fear coursing through
his veins from being hunted. He took a few more deep breaths
and allowed some grim humor to elbow out some of the fear.
'Fame doth have its benefits my ass,' he thought bitterly.
'I'd like to see the damned poet who wrote that try a month
or two of being constantly stalked and harassed by fans.
He'd have never survived the first three kidnapping
attempts.' 

Some semblance of rational thought returned, allowing him to
move his mental introspection from the 'glory' of being a
renowned net author to the nagging feeling he had. Was that
window open when he had left this morning? No, it was
something else. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes in
surprise as it finally clicked into place.

Strawberries. There was a strawberry scent in the air.
Perfume, or shampoo. Someone was here.

He tensed his body and spun around to open the door. There
was a sudden rustling sound and he saw a shadow move out of
the corner of his eye. The doorknob slipped from the sweat
of his hands. He felt a prick on the skin of his neck. A
small wave of nausea swept through him as the fight or
flight feelings were replaced by something far more
complacent. His body seemed to lose all of its energy and he
lost the ability to stand. He heard the thud as he collapsed
to the floor, but never felt it. His last fleeting thought
before the dreamless sleep came was something about the
smell of strawberries in the air.

----

Consciousness slowly returned, but sight didn't. The room
was even blacker than he remembered it. He fought through
the complacence to do something- anything. It took a while
for the realization to trickle through his overtired brain.
He couldn't move his arms or legs; he was tied down. His
lower back or rear felt uncomfortable for some reason. He
blinked his eyes rapidly and felt the material of the
blindfold tied around his head. A groan escaped as his mind
parsed the sensory data together to form a mental picture.
He was tied to a bed, spread eagled, naked, and blindfolded.
The scent of strawberries filled the air.

"Feeling better?" The voice was a rich contralto, soft as a
whisper. There wasn't another sound in the room except his
own breathing and the faint echo of that voice. He searched
his memory, trying to place it with any face he might have
seen before, or any of the harassing telephone calls he had
been receiving lately. Nothing came to mind, so he decided
to wing it.

"A little," he drawled. "I apologize for being an
inconsiderate host and not offering you something to drink.
It seems I'm unexpectedly tied down at the moment. Do be so
good as to help yourself."

Her chuckle was just as rich as her voice. "I've never known
courtesy to be one of your more regarded values. And I
thought I knew you so well." There was a small shuffling
sound and a creak from across the room, then the soft,
barely noticeable padding of bare feet. The strawberry scent
grew stronger. "I guess that means I'll just have to get to
know you better," the voice crooned. 

He raised his eyebrows, although the expression was probably
lost under the blindfold. "Perhaps we could get to know each
other over coffee and a danish?" He tugged against whatever
was binding his right wrist for effect. "I'm hoping to be
free by tomorrow morning."

"Oh it's possible," she returned nonchalantly. "But tell me.
Are you always so… prone to courtesy or do I just have the
distinct honor of… catching you at a particularly good
time?"

The game would have been much more enjoyable if he wasn't
tied down and still recovering from whatever it was she had
used to knock him out. "I seem to find myself prone to many
things off and on. I guess it's just a peculiar
characteristic of my hobby." 

"Indeed," the voice purred. She must have been only a few
inches from his ear, because he felt her hot breath against
his neck. His skin tingled at the unexpected stimulus. "I'd
imagine your hobby allows you to assume some very
interesting positions." Fingernails gently scraped across
his bare chest. "Metaphorically speaking, of course." 

"Of course," he said wryly. Those two words do not often
constitute a witty repartee, but he had come to his senses
enough to realize he was flirting with someone who could
possibly be a homicidal maniac. Certainly being drugged,
stripped, and tied up didn't bode well for his aspirations
of freedom. 'Why is it,' he thought, 'that all my fans have
to stalk and attempt to kidnap me in their free time? Who do
they think I am, James Bond?' For the two hundredth
seventy-third time (some things are worth keeping count of),
he cursed himself for ever founding that thrice bedamned
yahoo group.

The voice interrupted his unpleasant reverie. "Well, now
that we've gotten the conversational pleasantries out of the
way, we can move on to a more... satisfying center of
attention." Fingernails scratched lightly against his chest
again, creating tingles in their wake. The nails drew slow
circles around his upper torso, occasionally reversing
directions or changing patterns to long ovals. The tingles
swept across wider areas until his whole chest seemed to be
filled with the light prickling sensation. His nipples
hardened in anticipation, and on the lower half of his body,
another part began to stiffen in response.

"Mmmmmmm..." the voice purred. "It's nice to know that you
appreciate my hobby as much as I appreciate yours." The
fingernails trailed down his chest and onto his stomach; the
wake of tingles followed. His member stiffened further at
the proximity. Something brushed the top of his left nipple
and a finger began circling the areole. The fingernails
disappeared from his belly. His left nipple was gently
pinched, causing it to harden further. Both nipples began to
throb a little, and then another pair of fingers pinched and
rolled the right nipple. Suddenly both sets of fingers
disappeared. It took him a moment to realize he was moaning.

There was a long moment where he was left alone. The tingles
slowly faded and he got his breathing under control again.
The strawberry scent was his only clue that she might still
be close. His breathing deepened and became quiet enough
that he could make out a faint echo of breath somewhere
above him. All his senses were straining to catch any
telltale sign of what she might do next. When something
finally happened, it came as a small surprise. 

Fingertips touched his right shoulder and trailed lightly
along his arm. They reached his wrist, where he was bound,
and reversed to trail just as lightly along the other side
of his arm. They found his shoulder again and went across
his chest. Another hand touched his left cheek and rested
there. The hand on his chest circled a nipple for a few
moments, causing the tingles and a warm feeling to return,
and then the fingertips trailed south. They traveled across
his belly and slowed as they approached his groin. His cock
stiffened in anticipation, but the fingertips stopped, and
then changed direction.

They traveled back up his stomach and circled his left
nipple. The hand on his cheek withdrew momentarily and
reappeared on his forehead, resting atop the blindfold. His
left nipple was pinched, and then the fingertips started off
in a new direction. They crossed his left shoulder, went
down the inside of his arms, and stopped at his wrist. Both
the fingertips and the hand on his forehead disappeared and
there was a rustling to his side. There was a small 'froomp'
as some piece of what he guessed to be clothing hit the
floor. The bed shifted toward the same side. A fingertip
tapped the tip of his nose, then tapped his chin twice. It
caressed his lower lip, then his upper one, and disappeared.
Nothing happened for a moment, and then a hand pressed
against his forehead, pushing his head into the pillow.

A pair of lips pressed against his own, kissing him. They
seemed soft and full, and demanded all of his attention.
They opened slightly and his own parted in response. A
tongue grazed his lower lip, and he opened his lips further
in invitation. The lips disappeared, but the hand continued
to press against his forehead. The tip of her tongue
caressed one of his earlobes. Two lips grabbed the small
piece of skin and he felt her nibble it. He shivered
slightly and took a deep breath. Then the lips were gone.

There was movement on the side of the bed, and he felt the
mattress shift again as his captor moved towards his legs.
His cock pulsed from the hope of attention. A warm breeze
flowed against his sensitive head, and he twitched. The
breeze flowed around the skin of his shaft, and then blew
against his inner thighs. The familiar tingle spread across
his thighs and groin. His balls shifted a bit more into his
body when the breeze blew against his sack. The tip of her
tongue licked the underside of his head, and then swirled
around it. A hand grasped his shaft and made small jacking
motions. The head was engulfed in sudden warmth and his tip
was flicked by her tongue. Her hand made a final squeeze,
then let go. The warmth traveled halfway up his shaft, then
stopped.

Her tongue wriggled against his sensitive underside for a
moment, then calmed. There was a sudden burst of pleasure as
suction was applied and her mouth began to withdraw. Her
lips traveled all the way to his head, then stopped. Her
tongue flicked against his tip again, gathering the precum
he knew was there. The lips continued off his head, and he
jerked his hips forward in an attempt for more contact. The
lips disappeared, leaving the warmth only a tingling memory.
He jerked his hips forward again in frustration and
whimpered. He was so close!

The world expanded once more as his other senses began
reporting again. The bed had shifted at some point, and the
scent of strawberries was being overpowered by something far
muskier. His nostrils flared as the importance of the smell
registered. "If you want to finish," the voice crooned
huskily, "you'll make this good." And with that, warm flesh
was pressed against his mouth. 

----

Time lost all meaning. There were only her legs, her center,
and his tongue. He concentrated on her breathing, on the
muscles flexing in her thighs. Her sex was slick and tasted
sweet. He even caught himself imagining a strawberry taste
if he dug in far enough and rubbed one particular spot. Of
course, that particular spot got a rather large reaction
from her, so he was sure to check the taste several times
over just to make sure he *was* imagining it.

He lost count of how many times he made her come. After a
while, the quaking and moaning became one large, constant
stream of aroused reaction. It wasn't much of a relief for
him sexually, since stimulating her caused him to stay close
to his own edge, but part of him liked the tension. It would
have been even better if he had his hands free. He ached to
feel her breasts. His writer's imagination ran wild,
visualizing her on top of him, rocking and moaning and
swaying and sweating. Her nipples taught and straining for
contact. He imagined her pinching and rolling them with her
own hands, holding her breasts somewhat in place while they
jiggled constantly from her orgasms. He concentrated on the
feel of her thighs; squeezing, trembling, spasming. He heard
her moans turn to screams of ecstasy through her clenched
legs, held his breath as she rode out the latest of her
pleasure peaks until she collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.
He wondered if she would have enough energy to do anything
else while he listened to her breathing deepen and slow,
then speed up and slow again. Finally he felt her move into
what he guessed was a sitting position. 

Her rich voice echoed around the room as she chuckled. "You,
my dear, have one hell of a tongue," she crooned. "That was
better than I ever expected it to be. I'm not sure I'll ever
look at a vibrator the same way again." The chuckles started
again, but this time they were much darker. "I think you
deserve a reward. Something tells me you won't be able to
look at a vibrator the same way again, either."

The analytical part of his mind blanched at the melodrama,
but the rest of him focused on the implications. Either
things were about to get really good, or he was going to
find new sympathy for some of the characters in his nastier
stories. 

The sudden buzzing sensation in his rectum supported the
second of the two possibilities. He jerked his hips upward
off the bed, both trying to get away from and get closer to
the unannounced intruder. His mind blanked in a combination
of pleasure and shock. He barely heard the voice's next
words.

"While you were out of it, I took a few liberties with you,"
she drawled. "One of them, obviously, was tying you down.
But before that I gave you one of my favorite toys. It's
something an electronics nut friend of mine made for me.
It's an egg vibrator, wireless remote, with some special
settings. This one will alternate between the two lowest
settings and off. The timer's a real piece of work. It's one
of my gifts for my favorite author. Feel free to enjoy it
for a while. I'm going to take a nap on your couch. Have
fun, darling." Part of him expected a cackle, but there was
nothing but the pad of footsteps as she left the room.

Nothing but the barely perceptible sound of buzzing. Nothing
but the occasional creaks of the bedposts as he thrashed his
body and jerked his hips. Nothing but the whimpers and moans
he couldn't hold back. 

Time lost all meaning once again.

----

Buzz. Stop. Buzz. Stop. BuzzzZZZZzzz. Stop. There was always
enough time in between to calm him down. The times varied,
on some sort of complex schedule he hadn't figured out yet.
The second level would kick in occasionally, but never long
enough to allow him relief, and it was always followed by
long cool down times. It was the most torturous pleasure he
had ever known.

The bed was soaked. He was dripping in sweat. He cycled
between being completely out of breath and long periods of
semi-panting. Occasionally he would summon enough energy to
struggle in his bonds, but that only made his wrists and
ankles sore. He had given up on the voice ever returning
when it startled him by speaking. 

"Feeling rested?" He decided it was probably best not to
reply to the bait, since any answers he might have had were
not things he wanted to say while tied up. 

"I kind of hoped you'd be the type to pout cutely," the
voice continued. "Guess you're a sulker instead. Oh well,
can't be perfect." The vibrator turned off just as it was
starting a new round of buzzing. A hand gently grabbed the
shaft of his cock. The touch alone was enough stimulation to
work him back up to the edge. "Maybe I can think of a way to
get you in a better mood," the voice whispered. 

His cock was throbbing. He jerked his hips up, trying to rub
himself against her hand, but the hand squeezed harder and
held onto the same place. He decided that orgasm was
probably a futile hope and gave up. Once he stopped moving,
the hand began to lightly rub up and down. He whimpered in
frustration, not even bothering to move. The hand became a
single fingertip, which tickled its way up to the head of
his member and began making circular motions. His hips
jerked involuntarily at the sensations and the fingertip
disappeared. 

There was silence for a while. He imagined she was watching
him, but the only things he could watch were the altering
shades of black from the blindfold and his own eyelids. The
scent of strawberries hung in the air. He was beginning to
hate that smell. 

The sound of movement alerted him just a little before the
bed shifted. She was moving on the lower half of the bed,
but he couldn't tell what was happening beyond that. He felt
something touch the outside of his right upper thigh, then a
similar feeling on his left. A hand grabbed his cock and
held it. His body was aflame with hope, but his mind was
screaming denial. He told himself there was no way in hell
this vindictive bitch was going to do what he was imagining.
He reminded himself of all the teasing she had given him
already.

Something warm touched the head of his cock. He concentrated
on not letting his hips jerk. He fully intended to deny her
the satisfaction of seeing him suffer any more than he could
help. The warm skin slowly surrounded the tip of his cock
and creeped down the head. He furiously reminded himself
that it was some sort of trick, that she was using a hand or
something. He mentally screamed in denial as the warmth
surrounded his head and began to slide easily but slowly
down his rod. The pleasure started overriding the higher
functions of his brain. All his concentration was focussed
on not moving his hips. He refused her the satisfaction of
seeing his hips move as the slick warmth passed the
sensitive ridge behind his head and slowly began swallowing
his shaft. He didn't move his hips as her flesh engulfed the
first inch of his shaft. He remembered not to move anything
as her slick, hot skin rubbed over his head and crawled down
the second inch of his shaft. He knew vaguely that he wasn't
supposed to move something as the center of his body turned
to fire, as the third inch of his shaft was taken. He
couldn't think and really didn't want to by the time he felt
something solid touch his pelvis bone. He lay there,
enjoying the sensations and unable to imagine anything but
what might happen if the feelings became even more intense,
when the voice distracted him.

"Was it worth the wait?" She whispered huskily into his ear.
"Doesn't it all feel so much more intense? My first lover
did this for me. He tied me up and ate me for hours, but
never let me climax. When his mouth got tired, he used a
vibrator. I had to suck him off three different times, the
greedy little bastard. I later found out that he had kept me
tied up and on the edge for six and a half hours. By the
time he decided to fill me, I was practically a raving
lunatic. But I'd never felt something as good as when he
finally entered me. I never got past my first orgasm. I came
so hard I passed out. When I woke up he had already untied
me. He told me that I had just experienced the wonders of
delayed gratification. After that, nobody ever had to tie me
up to keep me on the edge for hours. But just between you
and me, I kind of like being tied up. It's just not as
intense if my hands are free."

Any response he might have made turned to a moan as she
lifted herself up and came down, beginning the slow rocking
motions that drove all logic from his brain. There was only
the pleasure as her tunnel slipped up and down over his
cock. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. There was nothing else
in the world for him but Up and Down.

The rhythm became faster. He could feel himself climbing to
a height of pleasure he had never experienced before. Every
piece of his body felt super sensitive. His nerves thrummed
with energy. His heart was racing. His soul was singing. His
mind was being bombarded with wave after wave of joy all in
time with the quickening Up and Down. Her moans began to
echo his own. His mind lost control of his jerking hips, and
the faint remaining whiff of conscious thought wondered why
on earth he had been holding his hips still when moving them
felt so good. It felt so good to move them Up and Down,
working in concert with her wonderful flesh. His body melded
with hers in the rhythm of Up and Down until they began
working too fast for the rhythm to maintain. Up and Down.
There was nothing else in the world that mattered but Up and
Down. His body raced hers up the rise of pleasure until the
muscles in his legs did a small spasm. Up and Down. Nothing
but the pleasure that couldn't be held back anymore and Up
and Down. Nothing left but Up and Down, Up and Down, UP and
DOWN until...

Release. Sweat, lovely, welcomed Release. His hips jerked
and he felt himself explode into her warmth. His soul sang
in rising concert with the aching joy that filled his body
and mind. Far off he heard her voice hiss a sudden "yesssss"
and felt her muscles clench around his own, heightening his
pleasure. His skin flamed, his muscles twitched and
contracted and curled and knotted. His back arched, his legs
tensed, his hips came off the bed. His penis pulsed over and
over and over. His eyes saw bright flashes of brilliant
color beneath his closed eyelids. The caught breath in his
throat finally found a way through and his ears picked up
something which might have been a keen joining the gasping
cries of the voice. Eternity was suspended before him,
displaying itself in all its glory before he felt himself
wrenched and the blackness overtook him.

----

He woke to a bleary image. Consciousness returned bit by bit
and his eyes regained their focus. He stared at the ceiling
of his bedroom, wondering if it had all been a dream. He sat
up to see everything in his room just the way it usually was
with three notable exceptions. His bed sheets were soaked in
sweat and other fluids, his wrists and ankles were red and
irritated, and there was a picture on his nightstand. 

He stared at his nightstand for a while and thought about
everything that had happened. He sniffed the air, hoping for
a strawberry scent, but the smell of sex pervaded the room.
He tried to decide if he wanted to ever hear that voice
again. He shrugged his shoulders, deciding that it probably
wasn't going to be his choice either way. He reached to his
nightstand and picked up the picture.

He was sprawled across the bed, untied but still in the
spread eagle position. His body gleamed with sweat in the
light of the flash. His hair was wild. His eyes were closed,
apparently asleep. His dick was still hard. His face was
warped in the largest smile he had ever seen himself
display.

There was a note on the back, written in a tight, flowing
script with red ink. "Write me a story to help remember this
night. I'll always be your biggest fan." The back of the
picture smelled faintly of strawberries.

He thought back to what she had told him when she had
finally sunk onto him. He decided his next story would be
titled "the wonders of delayed gratification." Either that,
or "strawberry dreams." Maybe he would use both and let her
decide.

~fin~