He pinched her nipple and watched as the aureola puckered and remained for seconds before relaxing back into her breast. The nipple stayed erect and wanting. It reached for his fingers. Stretched for his mouth. He could feel the saliva building as he watched it. Another pinch and this time it wavered a little. Wiggled at him. The stiff nipple begged his mouth.
The thought of how it would feel under his tongue, swirled in his mouth and teased between his lips taunted him. His fingers curved around her breast and hefted the weight. Tapped at the smooth skin. It felt so delicate and fit so perfectly in his palm. He could spend hours toying with her curve. Another pinch and this time the nipple pulled so taut that it looked like it would never go back and she moaned. A long, low, lustful moan he could feel through his groin. He felt his cock lurch against the fabric of his pants.
Her shirt was unbuttoned, her breasts bared, her arms tied above her head. The nipples were hard and jutting at him. They made him think how it would feel as they rubbed across his chest. Back and forth or up and down as she moved against him. The way they would draw circles and poke at him. How they would push into his mouth.
She moaned again and he felt an answering groan urge from his crotch. His balls drew up in need, then released to sway heavy as his member jolted. He thought of pushing the sides of her tits together around his hardness and pumping. Forcing his cock up the center of her chest and sliding between her mounds. She would poke at it with her tongue each time up and even grab at it with her lips, nibble and suck. Strain to keep it even as it pulled away.
The memory of fucking her tits made his member give a particularly painful throb and he pressed in close to her. He moved in until he felt the poking in his chest. Her nipples were staying rigid now and her moans were enticing liquid feelings from his insides. His hands moved over her globes again and pinched the tips. They responded with tingles he sensed and moans he heard.
Her pants were still on and he pressed his fingers to her center, felt the moisture through the cloth. She was soaked! She moaned louder and more urgently. His fingers pushed harder, threatened to enter her through the layers of clothing. Her moans came more urgently than ever and punctuated with sighs and squeals. The hand moving over the flesh of her back moved around and pinched the right nipple again. This elicited a half scream.
He moved closer still and pressed harder with his fingers, felt the nub of her sex and the wet of her desire. His hardness bore into her hip and he bent his head to her neck. When his lips touched, she shrieked "Oh!". Pushed her flesh at his lips, moaned and thrashed against the bindings holding her wrists above her head. Her nipples poked at him all the harder. His other hand moved up her back, feeling and testing the muscles. He squeezed the taut skin and smoothed the bulges and knots. She was moaning wantonly now. Lascivious utterings that struck at his core. It was pure strength of effort that kept him from ripping her pants down and grabbing her ass to ram into her. Great animal thrusts that would lift her from her feet and cause her to wrap her legs around him in a desperate clinging that would leave them both spent in minutes.
He wanted hours, though, and would bear his ache as best he could. Hardest for him, was the way her moans would wrench his gut or her sighs would cut into his will. His hands were free over her skin. Tensing, touching and tenting folds of her smooth skin, pinching and tweaking the parts of her that begged for attention; her nipples, shoulders, lips, scalp.
Each time his fingers squeezed together, she would moan or squeal or shriek. Every sound from her was met with an answering throb of ache and need from his rock hard cock. He pressed it into her. She felt it clearly through their clothes, sticking into her, heightening her need.
Hours, he'd said. The time between that first touch walking in the door and the moment she finally gets relief from her agony of want. His hand reached to her just in the door, grasped her fingers and brought her into sweet embrace. His lips met hers without prelude and the thrill shooting through her at his insistence left her panties wetter than even all the thoughts and envisionings she'd had throughout the day had made them.
She'd changed underwear just before coming over, but they were already wet again. Despite the nervousness and the hesitancy, her need drove her into frenzy and distraction. She could barely wait to leave work and be on her way, yet her fingers shook as she buttoned her coat and her knees trembled as she tried to walk sedately out to her car.
The time before she was to be at his door moved in fits and jerks. She was shakily walking to her car, then she was fumbling the key into her lock. She waited an eternity to get ready and suddenly couldn't get her shirt buttoned fast enough to leave on time. Checking one last time to be sure she'd done all he asked and wore everything he demanded, she left a minute and a half late and found herself jogging to the car. Punctuality was important to him, at least, he stressed specifics of when she would be where for him, so she assumed it was important to him. She'd never consciously disappoint him. At least, she never had yet and didn't want to.
If asked, she couldn't tell you why she would so willingly do anything to please him. She would say that it was because he demanded this of her. She might say that he pleased her so much she would do anything to bring the same delight to him. She may say that she feared the punishment for failing him (though she would feel her panties soak at the thought of what he might do to her). The truth is that she had no idea, really, as to why she so explicitly and consciously followed his every direction -- even when it made her uncertain and nervous.
Even now, hanging from a hook on the door in his room, her wrists locked together over her head and shoulders tiring, her body's every nerve shooting fire and jabbing shocks into her with his every pinch, shocking her with the tease of his fingertips, she dreaded what will be asked of her next while she craved more and more. He pinched her left nipple again and she wailed, snapped awake from her reverie. The jolt to her sex was followed with the knowledge of how tender she was getting and a long moan.
She felt her stomach tremble with fear remembering the time he'd whipped her breasts until they were tender for days. The same time he'd made her cum so hard she'd lost track of her muscles and self, shaking and screaming for minutes that dragged out to time unknown. Would he do that to her this time? Would he release her from the hook to fuck her like a dog, on all fours, pounding mercilessly until she would be left bruised inside and tender for a week? She hoped so and shivered at the thought both.
He pressed his fingertips to her scalp and squeezed. She sighed and he moved his fingers over her head to squeeze again. The look of her face when the jaw would clench and the muscles tauten in the throes of her orgasm was so precious to him. He squeezed again and the moan shot through his groin, sending quivers through his balls as they drew up in excitement and relaxed with the pulsing of his member. Again, he thought of yanking her pants off and impaling her -- hard and fast. Ramming her in a frenzy of fucking that would leave her breathless and gasping. Shooting his load and filling her drenched and dripping hole until he would see it oozing out of her as she hung limply at the end of this treatment. A groan escaped him before he could stop it and he pinched her nipple again, making her shriek.
She lapsed into a long drawn out moan and he allowed his hands to resume their roving movements over her back, stomach and chest. He bent his lips to her neck once more and nibbled the tender flesh there as she moaned and writhed. He would move his mouth onto her collar bones and hum as her groans stretched into long minutes and sobbing gasps of ohs and ahs.
She was pressing her chest toward his lips, manipulating her body to present areas for his ministrations when his fingers stroked down the opening in her shirt and once again pushed against her wetness making her squeal and squirm. His digits pinched and prodded. Invaded her as far as her pants and panties would allow. The tips tried to meet with her nub between them, then squeezing her pussy lips as they tried to squirt away. Each pressuring of his fingers brought a moan or a keening out of her lips.
Her head was thrown back and her back bent against the constraints of her bindings, the way she was hung on the hook. It forced her hips out to him and it gave her a thrill that the movement elicited a groan from him. She shivered and another of his groans chilled her. He drew his knee up so that she felt once again his hardness poking through the fabric of his trousers. She squirmed, pushing her clothed hips at him and trying to gain purchase and force his spear to penetrate her. The clothing was becoming a frustration and she growled.
He moved right up against her, his hardness all but ripping through the cloth. His hands delighted their way up from her thighs, over her ass, up her lower back and up, up to her shoulders. They continued, kneading and massaging her upper arms, up the elbows and forearms, inexorably up to her fingers where they twined briefly before pulling a strip of silk, a necktie, from the door and tying it over her eyes. She felt a thrill of fear and a flooding of fluid at the same time and marveled how she could have both at once.