The brush glides repeatedly through the length of my long hair, the knobby bristles massaging my scalp, the nape of my neck, my back. The palm of his hand follows the brush strokes smoothing down the hair. My head falls forward, the muscles so relaxed that they can't keep it up. My eyes are closed and my whole body turns to jelly. I am putty in his hands. With each pass over my bare skin the sensations continue to flow all the way down my spine. I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into the soft mattress.
The brushing stops yet I cannot move. A strange feeling comes over me. I hear nothing, feel nothing, and sense nothing. Powerless to open my eyes, I wait. I am aware of the quietest movement. Something soft, luxurious, smooth is placed over my eyes. My head involuntarily moves back towards it, drawn by the silken sensations like a magnet. The scarf is gently tied around my head, closing out the visual world. I allow myself to submit to it. His hands slide from the back to the front of my head, caressing my face. I feel his breath on my ears and hear him whisper to me.
"Relax. Feel every minute touch I make. You are mine." He growls near my ear.
I am slowly lowered down onto the bed to lie on my back. His fingertips are all that touch me, burning into me. Tiny strokes they make all over my body, light and feathery wisps of feeling. His knees gently press into my side. His hand encircles my left wrist and raises my arm above my head. My arm in that position causes my left breast to swell upward. It begs for attention, the nipple taut and hard. That now familiar silkiness floats over my stomach, over my breast, up my arm. My back arches and a low moan escapes. The silk is wrapped around my wrist loosely and tied. I can feel it being pulled tighter as it is attached to the bedpost. I have no desire to stop him, content to let him have his way with me.
He slowly, and with little pressure, straddles my stomach and I feel his nakedness against mine. The hairs of his legs tingle against my skin. His soft manhood dangles and grazes my stomach as he climbs over to my other side. Every nerve in my body is alive and alert. He shifts himself so that his knees again press into my side. My other wrist is taken and placed above my head. I feel both of my breasts lifted upward, forced in that position by my raised arms. The silk once again falls onto my stomach and slides up my right side causing all the hairs on my body to rise. He ties my right wrist to the other bedpost just like the left one.
My breathing becomes short and shallow as I anticipate what is next, yet nothing happens. I wait, for what seems an eternity, for him to touch me but all I feel is him shifting on the bed. No part of his body is against me. The only sounds that I hear are my breathing and the soft, sensual music playing. The only thing I feel is the movement of air from the fan above the bed. He moves not an inch. I can sense his eyes boring into me. I can smell the blend of his muskiness and mine. I can feel and smell my own arousal. The teasing and waiting are causing my nectar to flow.
He moves and all ten of his fingers touch my face with the slightest touch. Slowly they move down cheeks, over my nose, lips and chin. They rest on my neck and I feel them encircle it. I am not scared. I trust him. No pressure is exerted and they continue down to my heaving chest. I force myself not to move, to remain still and feel every touch. The heat of his fingers cut through my skin deeply. They travel just a little farther downward until they hover over my awaiting bosom. There they make little circles around the areola and then pull away.