Display 7

She was blindfolded.

Attendants guided her to an unknown room. She guessed it was large, there were many steps between the sound of the opening door and where they stopped but she didn't know for sure. She never knew. Without saying a word to her, they positioned her, their disembodied hands maneuvering her wherever they wanted. The soft fabric of their robes brushed against her, causing goosebumps to ripple up her skin. Her breathing shallowed and nipples hardened.

They set her up in a beautifully lewd display. Her buttocks perched at the edge of an old fashioned wooden chair, they spread her legs open and tied her ankles to either side. The thick red cords scratched her soft skin as they wove it up legs and around the chair, knotting it at her knees. Another cord looped around the seat and wrapped around her waist and hips and tied at the small of her back. They guided her arms behind her and over the back of her chair, forcing her to arch her back slightly and thrust her breasts out. Looping around her arms, they bound her at her wrists and elbows, an intricate braided pattern between them.

At last they fastened a thick leather collar around her neck and attached a quietly chiming chain to a D-Ring in the back and pulled it taut connecting it to a ring under the seat of the chair and forcing her to tilt her head back and thrusting her breasts out even more.

She was left alone, the only sound in the room her quietly hitching breath and the soft creaking of the wooden chair.

She waits for him.

Her breath getting shallower as the collar and chain stretches her neck tightly. Skin tingles and she imagines him watching her, wanting her. Waiting for his firm touch and her first release. Waiting for his desire to take her. She tries to shift her hips in her unconscious want to be filled, unable to move them for the bindings.

The door clicks opens and she hears his first steps into the room. She holds her breath waiting. Always waiting for him. Her body already aroused, heightens her need and she feels the ripple of desire pulse from her clit; her nipples aching in the chill of the room. She strains to hear him move toward her but his steps go silent as he reaches the plush carpet. She whimpers.

She feels his shadow in front her. He's there between her legs, his fingers ghosting over the exposed flesh of her thighs. He grips the seat of the chair, leaning his weight into it making the chair creak. The rough linen of his shirt barely brushes her nipples and they tighten more, beyond an ache and painful now in their need to be touched and caressed.

She smells the mint on his breath as he leans toward her and licks her lips, straining against the collar. She feels the soft exhalation of his laugh as his lips hover over hers. And she feels the lightest touch, his lips barely grazing hers and she moans, the vibration in her throat hardly making a noise. She goes a little lightheaded as the leather presses against her throat cutting her air more as she strain towards him in her desperation. He steps away from her and she arches, flash of light behind her eyes before she collapses back and gasps air into her lungs.

She feels him as he circles her, tracing her skin with his fingertips without fully touching her. Desperate, shallow jerking thrusts of her hips accompany her needy moans. She feels him stand in front of her again, his fingers sliding over her skin in that teasing touch; up her thighs, over her hip, up her chest between her breasts, tracing smaller and smaller circles until he is hovering just over the tips of her pointed nipples. He begins thrumming them in time to her gasps.

"Don't cum," he says to her and she can barely hear him over her own moans.

"Do not cum," he says more forcefully and she groans a yes.

He grips her nipples and pinches them suddenly, hard and relentlessly and it's all she can do to obey and keep herself this side of her ever closer orgasm. He releases them and she pants, gasps, whines, trying to calm herself.

He leans over her again, one hand caressing the collar and around the back of her head. His fingers thread through her hair and he grips it tightly pulling her head back. He growls, "Good girl," and kisses her hard, devouring her mewls.

She gasps a breath as he pulls his lips away from her. Her body held on the edge of orgasm so long is aching and over sensitive. She wants to cum. She *needs* to cum.

He removes the collar and tosses it to the side with a muffled whump and jangle as it hits the carpeted floor. Her head falls forward and she takes her first full, ragged breath of the night. He traces her body again; around the marks the collar left behind, down the outside of her breasts, down her sides to her hips, to the inside of her thighs down to her knees. As he travels up to the warm heat between her legs, he pauses just over her clit.

"Please," she begs, voice cracking. "Please, please, please," as her voice grows hoarse in her desperation.

"Cum for me," he says and presses against her clit, rubbing in firm circles with his thumb as he thrusts his middle and ring finger into her in one deep stroke.

She throws her head back and screams, her body exploding in finally released tension. A pins and needles thrum cascading over her. Her pussy clenches and throbs and she can't stop her cries as he continues to thrust into her with his hand, drawing the orgasm out to its very last second.

Her head falls forward and she gasps, groans in contentment.

"Good girl," he says. "We're not done yet."