Bare on the Cross -

Her body was strapped to the St Andrew's cross, legs pried apart and arms thrown wide, embracing the naked air. Her skin was rippled with goosebumps, partly for the cold and partly for everything else. I left her eyes uncovered during the binding process, so she could see that it was my hands tightening the leather cuffs, my hands putting her into place. Hands that she trusted.

But it was time for her to take a leap. A table behind her held the session's potential tools, lined up like eager servants. I stepped behind her, took up the velvet blindfold - an anniversary gift, pitch black inlaid with silver thread - and threaded the ties behind her head. My fingers brushed her soft hair, and I heard her draw a sharp breath.

"Yes?" I asked in a low voice.

A shuddering, "Uh huh," in reply.

I stepped around to stand in front of her.

With her eyes covered, her head was tilting back, and her lips were parted in a permanent, anticipatory sigh. The pose was simple, her body bare, the room sparsely decorated. And yet, together, they were a sight of rapturous beauty.

She didn't know that I had set myself a challenge: get through the entire session without using her for pleasure. I could touch her, tease her, make her scream and cum and shake. But I was not to set my cock free for a moment; I was not to even rub myself against her. She could beg, plead, fall to her knees and hold her tongue out, drooling on the floor, but I was not to give in.

We would have to see if I was strong enough to hold out.

I started with my eyes. I traced the lines of her torso, flowing down to her hips, diverting smoothly into her toned, warm thighs. Between them lay a small tuft of downy hair, decorating her labia. Her lips folded out slightly, and at this moment her arousal was apparent, as they were red and shining. Waiting.

Her torso and arms were a countryside, rising and falling, slopes and valleys of muscle and flesh. Her nipples were small, tight cairns set against wide, dark areolas. She was self-conscious about them, felt they were unusual. I adored their individuality. They were

hers

.

Hands must follow eyes. I traced her collarbone with my fingertips, and immediately she stiffened, catching her breath. Her skin was hot and hungry, inviting me to touch more, to press harder, deeper. Everything I had surveyed with my eyes I now wandered over with my hands. Her thighs were bound in strong muscle, and her arms deceptively ropey underneath the soft skin. Her stomach expanded and shrank with deep breaths, and her chest rose and fell. Her nipples seemed to stare at me, calling me forward. I heeded the call, cupping her breasts with full hands, an embrace of sorts. She rose onto her toes and moaned. Her voice broke the silence, lower than I would have expected, but rich and pleading. I felt tension in my groin, and ignored it. This moment wasn't for me.

While her back was arched, pushing her chest into my hands, I let one slide down over her stomach and down between her legs. I cupped her pussy, felt its heat radiating into my palm. I felt as though I were holding her entire soul right there. She whimpered and moved her hips, trying to place more pressure on her clit. I obliged, pressing the meaty part of my palm up, pressing her clit between her public bone.

"Ha, fuck!" She bit her lip and groaned.

I placed a light kiss on her shoulder. The hand on her breast pulled back, focusing on her nipple. I gently twisted and pulled, playing with her, while she continued to hump my palm. I pressed my fingers up against her slit, and they parted so easily I nearly laughed, but I didn't want to betray my dominant persona. Instead I said in a low voice, "Your pussy is so warm and wet darling."

A strangled sound of confirmation.

I pressed inside her and felt her pussy wrap tightly around my fingers, pulling them deeper. At the same time, I shifted so instead of my palm, it was my thumb on her clit. I tried not to get lost amongst the conflicting motions of teasing her nipples, clit and pussy. Her movements became more exaggerated, and her breathing became shallow. She was muttering nonsense and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. I could hear her soaked pussy gliding along my fingers, and beneath my pants my cock was begging to be part of the action. I ground my teeth and pushed focus away from my body to hers. She appeared to be approaching an orgasm. I fought the instinct to chase it, and instead held my pattern, as she'd once advised me to do.

Patience paid off. Within minutes, between the two of us she was tensing. Her biceps rose up from arms as she strained against the cuffs, and her thighs tried desperately to close, but the cross wouldn't relent. Her low moan became a harsh, feral growl as she shook and came. I pulled my hands away to watch her in the throes of orgasm, and just as she seemed to be coming down the other side of the swell, I got to my knees and dove forward, running my tongue up between her slit and then planting my mouth around her clit. Her growl pitched up into a high squeal and her body went rigid again, the wood of the cross groaning under the assault. I pressed harder against her, alternating between sucking on her clit and ploughing my tongue deep inside her pussy, reaching deeper to taste her body. If she'd been unrestrained, her fingers would be pulling on my hair and her legs would be wrapped around my shoulders. Instead she was held apart, exposed. I fucked her with my mouth, as though the only nourishment I could ever get was coming from right here, between her legs.

"St- st-!"

Stop? Stop wasn't our safe word.

More sounds, some growling. At one point another strong orgasm rumbled through her body like an earthquake, and I gripped her hips to keep her pussy as still as possible. I felt her walls shuddering, tightening, dilating, and her clit throbbing, bobbing like a lure.

Finally, after a few more minutes of relentlessly tongue-fucking, she cried out, "Okay! Red! Red! FUCK! Red!"

A dark part of me wanted to push on, but I did as asked. Trust was more important than impulse. I pulled away and growled deep in my chest, admiring the string of spit and pussy juice between my lips and hers. I licked at the residue around my mouth and slowly stood, watching her quivering.

I allowed her to come down on her own, and once she seemed to have left the more intense part of the orgasm behind, I stroked her hair.

"Good?"

"Y- yes." So cute when she's messy.

I kissed her cheek. "Time for something harder, I think."

I went to the table...