Blindfolded and tied to the chair, he sat quietly, listening for clues as to his captor's whereabouts. His heightened anticipation was evident as his erection pressed tightly against his jeans. He was shirtless but was grateful for it because the raised welts on the flesh of his back were sensitive, the heat permeating his nerve endings. The sweat trickled slowly down his temples; his breath was even and steady. He was unafraid, but anxious.
He heard footsteps approach him and he held his breath, preparing for the oncoming assault. It was unnerving that he could not see what was forthcoming, but at the same time, exhilarating. He slowly released the air he was holding and braced himself; for what, he was uncertain. He heard a soft chuckle and felt hot breath against his ear. It caused the goose bumps to rise on his skin. Fingertips gently and slowly flirted up his inner thigh, and came to rest on his erection. He felt a palm cup around his hardness, rubbing him, up and down. He moaned softly, unable to suppress his pleasure.
Again, soft laughter. He felt the fingers tightly squeezing him; pleasure quickly changing to discomfort. He bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to speak, certain that his opinion would not be welcomed. She said something about what a nasty fucker he was; and then he felt a violent, unexpected slap to his face; his teeth piercing the flesh of his cheek. He jerked his head to the side, and told her to go fuck herself. He pressed his tongue up against the cut and savored the salty, metal tang of his own blood. He felt her weight fall onto his lap as she straddled him, the warmth of her sex pushing against his erection. She gently put her hands on his cheeks and calmly warned him to be respectful. He nodded and she gave him a pat on the top of his head, in obvious condescension. She wrapped her legs around him, her thighs tight against his hips.