She ties him to a chair, because she wants him to feel helpless for this. He's naked, and she spreads his legs wide and ties them so he's straddling the chair. No way for him to hide his penis and balls, or keep from exposing any erections he sports. She ties his hands behind his back; it makes his chest thrust forward just a little, and she pinches his nipples tightly before she leaves him there, exposed and sensitive.
"Now, be a good boy," she says. She strokes his cheek and kisses him deeply, possessively. She steps back and ogles him, running her eyes up and down his body. He flushes at her scrutiny. He's already more than half-hard.
She reaches down in front of him and strokes his penis. "I'm going out now," she says. "I won't be long. Remember, you haven't earned the right to come yet. I want you hard and waiting for me when I get back. Don't even think about getting a hand out of the rope so you can touch yourself."
The instant she says it, it's all he can think about, and she laughs as she sees the expression on his face. "If you're a good boy, I'll suck your dick later," she says with a filthy wink, and then she turns and walks from the room, her gorgeous ass swinging.
He has the biggest boner he's had all week, which is saying something considering that she hasn't let him come in five days. She's teased him every morning with her hands and warm wet mouth, and made him masturbate for her every night before sleep, but she stops him every time just before he's about to orgasm. He doesn't know what she's up to tonight, and the anticipation is killing him. He can't stop thinking about touching himself, or her sucking him hot and hard until he comes.
He's just starting to calculate his chances of getting free of the rope long enough to jack off very quickly before she returns when he hears the click of the door latch. He jerks his head up. No one should be here!
A man enters the room as if he owns it. He leaves the door open behind him. The man in the chair thinks he recognizes him from somewhere, but he can't quite place where. He's about to protest that this is a private residence, but the man makes an imperious shushing gesture. He's carrying a piece of paper in his hand and he brings it over to the naked man on the chair, holding it up in front of his face so he can read it. It's written in bright red marker in a familiar bold script.
*Sweetheart, if you're reading this while tied up nude and waiting for me, do whatever this man says. No questions asked. Nod if you understand.*
It's her handwriting. He flushes hot all over at the thought that she planned this. She actually asked someone over to see him like this! He gapes at the man, deeply humiliated to be seen naked and hard and vulnerable--and also turned on as hell.
He finally remembers to nod, and the man smiles and folds the message away, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. He's tall, dark hair shading to salt-and-pepper, with a commanding air. Even through his jeans, he's obviously hard, and as he starts to unzip his fly, the man in the chair swallows hard.
"Kiss it," the tall man says, and the man in the chair leans forward as much as he can. He kisses the tip of the man's cock, and the man shoves the head of it just past his lips. He tongues the head of a pretty big, solid cock for a few moments until the other man pulls back and wipes himself on his cheek. Then the tall man starts to stroke his dick, holding the seated man's eye and smiling with a look of self-satisfaction that has everything to do with being free to pleasure himself while the man in front of him has a raging hard-on he can't touch.
