She lies. Still as her heart. Quiet as her breath. The pull on her shoulders anchors her thoughts while the smooth feel of his hands sends her mind fluttering. Up and over the muscles of her back, his palms soothe and relax her. If it wasn't for her arms tied behind her back and the frustration of an interrupted orgasm still twisting inside her, she would be welcoming every play of his hands.
His fingers find her hair and she gasps with the force of the tug on her scalp. Her neck stretches, her head bends back and shivers wrack her bones when his voice presses into her ear.
"You came last time. Before I told you to." The tone is soft and gentle, but the air surrounding her is menacing. A storm brews. The room crackles with anticipation.
"Ohhhhh." Is all she can muster.
His fingers curl in her hair and she feels her back arch until her nipples lift off the mattress. She quakes with the orgasm left hanging inside her. She'd been on the verge of exploding when he'd stopped touching her, grabbed and bound her hands behind her back. Now, though she lies frightened and torn, that climax yet sits patient for a spark to set it off.
He has other plans. "I expect you to do better this time." His voice rains on her bare nerves. Silk on a raw wound and she knows she will come if he but pinches her in the right spot.
She moans aloud as his mouth finds her nape and nibbles its way to her shoulders. She wriggles and squirms as his breath and teeth sink deeper into delicate flesh.
His hardness presses up against her hip and she doubts his intentions no more. Her body begins to spasm and trying to stop it will only make her come harder.
He spanks her ass then. Hard. She screams and it is only the stinging left behind that keeps her from slipping into desperate orgasm. Wetness flows over her thighs. If he enters her now, her juices will splatter everywhere. She's never been so wet without coming over and over.
His hard pole prods her hip again and she thinks of reaching back and grasping it. Bringing it inexorably to her lips. She thinks of it so well, she feels the throbbing in her throat. Her hands twist in their bindings and another sliver of moisture runs out between swollen and aching lips to slip down her thigh.
There is a pool of liquid beneath her, she knows. A great chasm she can fall into with only the slightest prodding of his hands. The yawning covered by the fluids running out from her inner self.
She can think of no time where she's been so thoroughly turned on. Her every nerve raw and aware, her rampant pulse ravages her thoughts. In fact, she can think of no other time at all. Her arms are stretched behind her and bound at the point where her shoulders strain, but not yet complain. When he grips her hair and pulls, she feels her muscles tauten completely through her body. Head to toe and especially through her groin.
Despite his continuing admonitions "Don't you fucking dare cum," she knows the familiar sensations shivering through her being. Her body will quake with orgasm all on its own. Her body shakes the tips of tears out into the corners of her eyes and gasps rip from her throat. "This is where you let go last time. I won't put up with it twice." His voice is soft. So soft. "Don't you fucking dare."
"Please." She manages. A piteous sob. She is embarrassed by the tiny mewling that follows. She thinks how a flood of moisture from her sex now would trigger a matching deluge from her mind and her torment would be over for better or worse.
"I told you, did I not? Last time you didn't listen." His voice has always been only sweet and dear for her. Even though the tone is level and quiet now, the threat is clear. "You know your punishment is deserved."
He pauses and she whimpers into the space. His breath flares hot in her veins and ragged on her neck. He is at the edge of his control, goaded by her anxiety, stirred by her desperation and wanton pleading. His hardness pokes her. Tries to force itself into her through the meat of her buttock. She feels the throb like a wild animal waiting in the jungle.
The hand in her hair tightens, pulls and she is tumbled to her side. Her legs flail uselessly and his free hand finds her breast unerringly. The pinch on her nipple is a quick nip. It sends her into convulsions. His fingers shove their way into her mouth and it is only the uncertainty in her mind of what this action means for her that keeps her from crashing into that waiting ocean of bliss.
She kicks out again, trying to right herself, balance somehow denied to her by his muscles pressing on her back. He captures an ankle easily, reaches behind him, grabs something and straps a belt around it. The buckle is hard metal on her delicate curve. He tugs. Catches the other leg just as smoothly and she is bound hand and foot, knees bent, arms behind, hair pulled back. Her heavy breasts jut, engorged and aching. Reaching for his touch.
His fingers are sharp. Pinching first her nipples, then the delicate underside of her breasts, they send her body into wild gyrations. Though she tries to rein herself in, her breasts sway and her shoulders wriggle just the way - she knows - that will send him into fits of lust.
His throbbing tool gives proof to her thoughts as it stabs her buttock. She feels the bubbling inside her and knows she can't hold back as he yanks at her arms and legs. A sharp sting across her chest again holds her orgasm at the edge of her shaking. She struggles wildly against the hand wrapped in her hair. She never saw the first slap of the leather and catches the second only from out of the corner of her eye. It lands loud and stinging. She cries out as the strap slices across both her nipples at once. Already so stiff they ache, the snap brings tears flowing down her cheeks without her being able to stop them.
Another stinging slap of leather, less sharp this time, and she finally sees the strips that are biting her tender breasts. It's a wicked looking half whip - she later learns it is a quirt - braided at the handle with five or six strands of rough leather hanging off, limp. It makes her eyes widen in fear and surprise. And, somewhere, a core of excitement. She writhes and can't decide if she wants more or if she is terrified. Her heart pounds against her chest and her pulse rains a tattoo on the cloth around her wrists.
Her breasts take two more stinging blows and still another flicks across her left nipple. She screams and the struggle becomes a wild gyration. She thinks she will come and the touch of her thighs, the pressure of her skin against her clit drives her further. The intimate shiver starts in her toes and marches upwards.
He yanks her hair, pulls her to her back, throws a leg between hers and presses close. "I've told you not to come. You had better... fucking... not... even... dare."
His hands aren't rough, even as she is tossed back like a toy. There is a gentleness there that makes her melt and her very soul ache. His voice never growls, though a moan slips out. He shows her in his every movement and noise how he wants her. How she is his and he hers. His lips take hers between them and teases them lightly. She wriggles. She wants her arms free. Free to grab him, pull him close and kiss him as she wants: deep and long. She wants to reach down and take him in her hand; the pulsing member stiff against her stomach. She slips side to side, trying to force his body to cover more of hers.
His lips soothe her heaving chest. She only just realizes how she is panting. Her heart tries to burst forth and take one of the kisses for its own. The burning the lashes left behind takes his cool lips and traces flames across her aching breasts. His nibbles trail over the soft globes and when her nipple slips into his mouth, her need explodes into a frenzied struggle. Urgency overtakes all reason and she wants only to force him inside her. Somehow grab him and take him. Complete.
Fulfillment is further than her bound wrists, though. His leg keeps hers separated; without pushing against her need. She arches her back to try to touch his thigh with her sex. Just a brush of forgiveness would give her everything. She has to have something.
He takes the other stiff nub between his lips. Toys with it with his tongue and the arc of her back raises so fully that she scoots up the mattress. His hands close upon her hips and she thinks she will come now. He stops again, making her scream and struggle. Her need is furious and she thinks only of making him take her. Of taking him. It's an obsession and a place to focus on.
She begs. The strain of needing makes tears jump out her eyes and the taste of "Please" is bittersweet. A full bite of torment all its own. At the same time, she uses all the sly tricks she has ever known. Her hip juts and her curves accent. "Don't you want me, baby?" She purrs. She is giving him everything.
He pauses and watches her. Lust flows from him. A mist that moves across the lush grasses sweeps from his pores. His eyes are filled with stars of desire and he watches with the steady gaze of a true predator. He is going to eat her up.
She melts under the heat. "Please." She whimpers. "I really can't take anymore." Her breasts are so heavy she thinks they will explode, her sex is gasping. She has run miles and her blood is up to her ears. The pounding has her desperate for release.
He leans close to her hair and she hears him sniff her scent. "You have done so good, haven't you?" She writhes. Basking in the praise, trying to push close to his skin.
"I'm trying." She hasn't enough breath for speech. It spills out as a hoarse whisper. "Please. I really am."
"I did warn you, did I not?" (He means at the beginning of their relationship)
"Yes." She pleads. "Please." Her breath swims through thick air. "Please. I'll do anything you want." Her nipples tingle and the red stripes across her breasts sear her thoughts. His breath in her ear fans her fires.
"That's better," he coos. "I want your orgasm." He says simply. She squirms. "I want you to come for me. That's what you can give me." She whimpers. "I want your most intimate possession."
