Strip Club Tease Toy: Dan Falls Into A Trap
Chapter 8: Can't You Hear Me Knocking
Sarah turned and walked over to the speaker once more. As he hungrily and helpless watched her, he began to openly cry loudly for the first time now, making the kinds of sounds that only come from a man who has given up all hope. This ordeal had been surprisingly physically strenuous for him, considering that had been tied up for most of it: his entire body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, his muscles felt limp and shaky, and his short hair was slicked wetly against his forehead as he panted and sobbed in desperation and exhaustion. "Sarah, PLEASE! Have mercy on me! I can't take this anymore, I'm going to go insane! You could just... you could just let me jack off! That would be enough, it doesn't have to be special, I promise. Just let me go, just let my hand go and I'll do it myself. You can watch if you want, you can do whatever you want, just PLEASE, Sarah. I-I can't handle...Please you don't understand! You-"
Sarah waved her hand dismissively at him, and Dan fell silent again, leaving his ragged sobs, panting breath, and the sound of his belt buckle clicking against the linoleum as the only sounds in the room. She strutted and bounced back over to her make up table. "Aww Dan, I'm sorry! I can tell you're getting really really hot and bothered now! I just want to make sure I'm doing my due diligence before I help you do something you might regret later! You know? I don't want to make you cum until I'm absolutely sure that it's what YOU want. Besides!" She exclaimed with a grin as she pressed one slippery finger against the button on her speaker and filled the room with music once more, "We're getting to the really really fun stuff now!"
And this time when she spun around to look at him and strut back towards his desperate, captive, and shaking body, he saw that she was aggressively kneading her tits together with both hands, pushing her slippery, oily fingers deep into the soft mounds of flesh, alternatingly pressing them together, bouncing and jiggling them in her cupped palms as if they were massive water balloons, and lightly tracing the edges of each areola with soft, pink gel nail tipped, oily index fingers.
As she played with and massaged her tits, the baby oil on her hands spread wide and glistening bands of wetness across her jiggling melons. Then she reached over and plucked the bottle of oil from the table by the door, flipped the cap open as she stared hungrily into Dan's terrified eyes, and delicately raised it over her ample bouncing chest with her left hand, lightly drizzling tiny lines across the curve of her breasts.