She can’t move.
Not in any appreciable way; twitch, strain, tug, yes, but the restraints hold well and she is spread-eagled on the bed, unable to free herself.
He is in the other room, watching TV. Knowing that making her wait heightens the experience. For her, not knowing when he will return, what he will do when he does, keeps her alive, keeps her senses awake. Her tools are there on the floor, near the bed; a vibrator that squirms, swirls, and rotates inside her while tickling her clit; an acrylic double-ended dildo, one end curved to reach her G-spot, the other knobbed for her anus. A stubby soft vibrator that fits wherever she wants to put it.
She hears the television go off in the other room. But no sound of movement; his breathing is regular, she can hear him, but no footsteps. Not yet.
The duvet cover feels rough against her bare skin. It’s raw silk; rich with texture, fibers that rub and tickle her ass, make her back itch. The stimulation goes straight to her cunt; it’s swollen already, slick with wet. The game started when she showed up at his apartment, carrying her things, ready for their out-of-town trip. He greeted her as always; with a loving kiss, a strong warm hug. Took her things from her, set them down. Held her face with both hands and gave her a deep, searching kiss, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth, drawing from her a sexual response that arched her body into his.
He undressed her, then, before she could walk any further into the room. Pulled off her jacket. Unzipped her dress and then, as the sleeves caught on her wrists, fastened the first pair of restraints to her arms. Pulled down her pantyhose and wrapped the other restraints around her ankles. She was trussed; by her own clothes, and by the velvet-lined cuffs. He picked her up and carried her into his bedroom, laid her gently on the bed and pulled her clothes off. Still in her bra and panties, she lay without struggling’this was what she’d said she wanted’as he connected the straps to the restraints and pulled them snug, pulled her legs apart and fastened her ankles to the foot of the bed, her hands to the headboard.
Then he pulled out a small, sharp knife and slipped it under her bra, the dull edge feeling sharp against her breastbone as he sliced through lace and silk and left the remains laying on the bed. He did the same with her panties, cutting through them at her hips, pulling them off.
That was when he’d gone into the other room and turned on the TV.
How long ago’ She couldn’t tell; since then she’d lain on his bed, pussy exposed by her spread legs, helpless to relieve the ache that grew there with every tick of his clock.
She hears him moving; hears footsteps. Now he’s standing in the door, looking at her.
‘That’s a nice, wet, pussy,’ he says. ‘Look at yourself in the mirror.’ She’d been avoiding that, but now she does; the doors of his closet are mirrors, right at the foot of the bed. She can see how he sees her; feet wide, bare hairless cunt shiny with moisture. Labia swollen, red, so tumescent she swears she can see them pulsating.
‘Wouldn’t you like to touch yourself’ But you can’t, can you?’ He moves closer.
‘Maybe I’ll touch you. Let’s see, where shall I start?’ His hand hovers over her, closer and closer but still not in contact. An inch away from her clit; half-an-inch from a nipple. He leans in and breathes on her nipples, his lips so close she can almost feel them’but not quite. ‘Those are luscious. I’ll bet you’d like me to lick them, nibble them, bite them, wouldn’t you?’
Her cunt twitches; she moans, a sound far back in her throat.
‘Maybe you’d like to lick me?’ he says, and opens his pants to bring out his hard cock, swollen as she is, red tip engorged with blood. He touches her lips with it; her tongue darts out, catches the drops of slick liquid on its tip and traces the seam of the head before he pulls away.