The sound of voices, laughter and music, the clink of ice in a glass so much louder, more immediate. The soft velvety caress of silk, the smell of cologne and a hint of light filtered through a black cloth, a sudden, darker shadow in the shape of a person looming up.
"Come on," a voice demands, a sharp tug on wrists bound by handcuffs.
Stumbling onward, the slap of bare feet against the cold, rough concrete, the twitter of laughter, a flinch at the caress of long fingernails over naked skin. Turning unseeing eyes towards the sound of a sharp slap, a soft muffled moan from across the room before another flinch as wayward fingers pinch hard, exposed nipples.
"Stop," the voice commands, hands roughly guiding, turning, shoving downward.
A soft padded bench, inclined so neither lying flat or sitting up, handcuffed wrists pulled high overhead, arms stretched upward, tied and held in place. Rough hands shoving and pushing, legs lifted and spread, the soft, wet throbbing center exposed to the gentle kiss of air for all to see. Soft shackles, ankles bound.
Waiting.
Anticipating.
Hoping and dreading.
Voices coming closer, complements and exclamations, wonder at how much nectar a lovely flower contains before moving onward, moving away, merging with the sounds of the crowd.
Another flinch, fingers tracing the gentle swell between trembling thighs, pulling back tender flesh, a callused finger caressing the treasure of a pink pearl discovered hidden within. A moan stifled, jaws held wide, tongue pressed against the rubbery surface of a ball clamped between aching jaws, saliva running down a cheek to drip from a chin.
"She has a beautiful clit!" a female voice exclaims, the rumble deep in a chest the only sign of agreement.
"Unnnhhh!"
Legs struggling to close, to defend that throbbing, aching center, the tip of a tongue touching an anus, the rough texture slipping upward, lapping up the honey flowing so freely, a mouth sucking hungrily at a still exposed pearl.
Gone just as suddenly, a long moan of need ignored, the sound of two people kissing, enjoying the flavor of a stolen moment. More sounds, the wet slapping of sex near at hand, the moans of passion, more strangers, more fleeting touches, more caresses.
"Oooow!"
Long, sharp fingernails, pinching, tugging and pulling exquisitely sensitive nipples, fingers plunging into a wet heat, caressing the soft, silky flesh found deep within. The beautiful, wonderful pressure, never far from the surface from the moment the blindfold had robbed all sight, clothes ripped away, all modesty stolen. The pressure building, cresting, exploding with rhythmic contractions, and then beginning to build again.
The petals of a glistening wet flower spread apart by a gently pressure, a rounded firm shape running up and down between tingling folds. A moan of desire, of want, of need, the firm shape pressing forward, stretching, violating, slowly and smoothly entering. Wrists still bound overhead, legs still stretched wide apart, feet held high, bound firmly in place no matter how much of a struggle, no matter how much the need to wrap arms and legs around an unseen lover.
