Erotica By Bravo #1

Chapter Four: Taran Tula and the False Mr. Largo

I.

Michele Bravo had a lot to think about. Just what did the false Mr. Largo portend? Was he an agent of the police, setting her up for capture? Or was he simply an aspiring businessman, who had done away with the real Largo simply in order to step into his shoes, and continue his life of crime unabated?

In order to help her think, she placed her laptop on her lap and started to type a story for her erotica blog. Michele had several identities, so that if necessary she could abandon one identity within minutes, and have another identity ready to step into. As Michele Bravo (which was not the name under which she had registered at this hotel) she was author of romance novels and erotica, a profession in which she did very well.

II.

Taran Tula and the False Mr. Largo (she wrote)

The exotic Taran Tula applied just the right amount of white eye shadow above her eyes to bring out their incandescent blueness. Her clingy, form-fitting sarong-style dress was of the same blue as her eyes. Her long fingernails glistened whitely, but each one had a tiny blue spider – a tarantula, naturally, in the exact center. She carried a small beaded…a little squatter than one might expect…indeed, if a style maven had seen Taran Tula on a runway somewhere, or entering the premiere of a movie she would have been excoriated for how squat that little bag was, as it distracted from her overall ensemble.

But she never went anywhere without what was in that bag.

She knocked on the door of Room 612 and waited expectantly. When the door opened, she expected to see Mr. Largo, a handsome six-footer with the body of a young Jean-Claude von Damme and the face of Cary Grant. Instead, she saw a man some ten years his junior, too slender, too fresh-faced.

“Taran Tula?” he asked.

“Mr. Largo?” she asked, in an Italian accent. Her Sophia Loren accent.

“Yes. Come on in,” and the man stepped back.

Taran stepped across the threshold, and then stopped. When the false Mr. Largo turned after closing the door, he almost bumped in to her. He stopped, disconcerted.

Taran smiled at him, sweetly, and placed her hand on his left chest. “Your reputation has preceded you, Mr. Largo. I hope you have heard of me as well.”

He smiled, revealing white teeth. “I have indeed.”

She ran her hand down his chest to his flat belly, then smiled and turned away. “Business first, eh?” she said throatily as she swayed over to a leather chair and sank into it gracefully, placing her little bag on the table near at hand.

The false Mr. Largo pulled the other chair closer to hers, so close that their knees touched, and said, “Sie sind sehr schön.”

“Danke,” replied Taran Tula, reaching out to cup his jaw with her warm hand. She removed her hand by rubbing her fingers across his mouth.

“Und sehr reizvoll,” he said, a little thickly.

“Very sexy,” she translated, in her Italian accent. “Thank you again. But before we get ahead of ourselves, where is my fee? $50,000 now, $50,000 upon completion of the job.”

“The briefcase with your money is on the other side of the bed,” he said, nodding towards its vast expanse.

Taran looked into his eyes. She smiled. “Perhaps,” she said softly, “I can put business before pleasure just this once.”

“I’m glad.”

“But wait,” said Taran, putting her fingers on his arm briefly. “Wait. I want to show you something.”

She opened the zipper of her squat little bag, and brought out five long pieces of black silk. “These are for you,” she said.

“For me?”

“You’ll indulge me, won’t you? I feel so much safer…and I’m always….so much more passionate, when I feel safe.”

“I want you to feel safe,” he said.

Taran rose and, gathering up the strips of lack silk, approached the bed. “Take your clothes off and lie down,” she said.

Without hesitation, he shed his clothing, revealing a slender musculature and a cock already beginning to harden.

“Lay down and spread out your legs,” she told him gently. He did as she instructed. His penis stood straight up, she jiggled it playfully before she took his left ankle and bound it securely to the left corner bedpost. Then she tied his right ankle to the right bedpost.

She glanced at him. He was watching her, his breathing a little rapid.

Taran stood up to her full height, and reaching up to her mandarin collar began to pull. The Velcro parted and the dress fell to the floor. Underneath it she wore nothing, no panties, no bra. Her pert breasts bobbed, and the false Mr. Largo licked his lips.

Taran climbed onto the bed and straddled the false Mr. Largo. She took his cock and guided it into her vagina, which had been wet for some time. It slid in, long and firm, and her own breath caught a little bit.

Then she leaned forward, her breasts bobbing close to the false Mr. Largo’s face, and guided his left arm up toward the left bedpost, where she tied it securely, while he occupied himself gently kissing up and down her exposed right body below her breast.

As she transferred her attention to his right arm, `he nibbled on the left side of her body as well.

Finally, when she was secured to her satisfaction, she leaned back, smiling down at him.

“How does that feel?” she murmured.

“I feel…very secured…” he said.

“Good.”

She leaned down and caressed his lips with her own. “I have something to tell you,” she whispered, one word after a brief kiss on his face….

“Ye….uh….yeah?” he whispered back.

“I know Mr. Largo.”

She continued to kiss him, on his cheeks, down to his neck, then back up the other side of his face. Then she set back once more.

He was staring at her, looking somewhat concerned.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” she asked, gently.

“Uh…well…that’s rather unfortunate.”

“It is for you,” she agreed, gently.

She noticed the muscles in his forearms bunching, as he tried to pull loose from his silken bonds, to no avail.

Taran tightened her clitoris against his cock, and gently began rising up and down, up and down, driving his cock deeper into her while at the same time ensuring that her clitoris stroked it enough to give him pleasure…

“What…” he had to take a breath, as her manipulations of him were beginning to have an effect… “What are…what are you going to do to me?”

“Where is the real Mr. Largo?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

She continued her manipulations, while she reached out and picked up the fifth and final piece of black silk. “Didn’t you wonder what this was for?”

“I…uh…” his whole body was tense now… here he was afraid for his life and yet his penis had a mind of its own…

“If you want to get out of this room alive, you will tell me.”

“I….oh god…” this was not for any pain she was inflicting but rather for the pleasure.

Taran Tula sighed.

She was not a murderer, still less was she a torturer. [Torturess?]

She held out the fifth piece of black silk. “I stuff this in your mouth, and take my leave. Tomorrow morning a maid comes in and finds you lying here, with no vase of flowers to protect your modesty. Do you think your employers won’t fire you, when they find out I’ve made a fool of you?”

His breath was coming in short gasps, his back was arching.

And then, he came. She could feel his body jerking under hers, as his cum pumped out, sending waves of pleasure streaking through his thighs.

She smiled to herself as she watched his face, twisted in pleasure. She should have stopped just as he was cumming, leave him hanging. Serve him right. But she’d been getting a little bit of pleasure out of it too…

Taran Tula rose from him, walked into the bathroom and took a towel to her nether regions. She could hear squeaks from the bed, but it was sturdy and her knots were good. The false Mr. Largo wasn’t going anywhere.

She returned to the room and slipped back into her dress.

“One more chance, Mr. X,” she said. “Who are you working for?”

He shook his head.

Taran Tula nodded. “Very well. Vaya con dios.”

She took the strip of black silk and attempted to fit it into his mouth, but he refused to unclench his teeth. Easily solved. She pinched his nose shut. After a few seconds he opened his mouth to suck in air, and the cloth went in as well. She tied it behind his neck.

Then she headed for the door. Halfway there, she stopped, ready to make another threat. Then, she waved it off. Why bother? After her night of pleasure, Taran Tula’s reputation had been made. The false Mr. Largo would never forget her.

And really, that was all that mattered.