Chapter 7 - Andrea
For as many ways that Michael had a way of spoiling me in the lap of luxury when we're together, I always thrilled and bowled over every time he pulled off the "little" surprises and touches, like the plate of chocolate truffles and the bottle of Taittinger vintage brut. This was definitely going to be a black lace corset, stockings and heels kind of night.
Michael had a glisten in his eye and a gleam in his smile as he came through the door with a medium-sized cardboard box.
"As much fun as we had out today, I'm thinking I should have picked up this package earlier," he said as he tore the box open and pulled out a satiny black sleep mask.
"Gosh, and I thought that smile was for me," I said as he put the mask on me.
"It is, and there's more for a sassy girl like you," he said as he gave me a couple of light smacks on the ass before sitting me on the edge of the bed.
I could hear plastic wrapping being torn away and crumpled from the area of the table on which he laid the box. Then there was the sound of a soft thud and a light metal clang that sounded as if they made contact with the table.
"So, what else do you have for me?" I asked with all my girlish charm.
"You'll find out soon enough," he said as I could hear him ripping through more plastic wrap and placing more similarly sounding items on the table.
Michael gave me a gentle kiss on the lips and glided his hand along the inside of my arm all the way to my wrist. He stopped to hold it firmly as he wrapped a wide, soft leather band around it.
"Oooh! Darling!" I exclaimed. "I thought you didn't have an interest in such implements!"
"Well, you've dropped enough hints over the years, and the more I looked into this, the more I learned this is more all about your pleasure," he said as he heard him secure and tighten the band with some kind of metal fastener. What I didn't expect was the sound of a chain and the metal clicking sound that attached to the band.
"And you know how much I enjoy basking you in pleasure," he added.
I swore I could hear him wink. Or maybe it was that same tone in his voice that he used when he did wink at me. Or had winkful thoughts.
"Here, put your arm like this," he said as he dropped my upper arm and bent my forearm up from the elbow. The chain pulled my arm out bent, slightly stretched out, but rather comfortably when I was able to let it drop from the taut chain.
"I have to admit that I always thought of bondage as being a brutal and barbarian thing, but seeing you like this in this gorgeous lace corset, your lovely legs in those stockings and how they look in those high heels, that you look beyond beautiful," he said as he drew his hand down my other arm, repeated the same routine as the first arm.
I felt a strong pulsing sensation deep in my loins I swore could have been measured on a Richter scale even though he hadn't touched me between my legs yet. He finally got around to barely touching the inside of my thigh, which made me wiggle and shift that usually gave him the signal that I wanted to be touched just a little more forcefully just a finger length away. I knew I could tell him if I really wanted to, but I felt couldn't impress my will with the blindfold on and my arms held in place. It was strange how the loss of my sight and ability to touch put me at his mercy.
As his hands slowly trailed down my leg to my ankle, he spread my leg outward and I felt another leather band being wrapped and secured around my ankle. I heard the familiar clang of the buckles and the chains. If only I could see myself. If only I could see the look on his face.
"My goodness, you are beautiful," he said as I heard him attach the last chain to the ankle of my second foot. "I will have these visions of you like a photo album imbedded in my mind forever."
Now I could understand why he held off giving my lips and the tight opening between my legs the attention they were begging for earlier. His touch wouldn't have been quite as intense as they would be once his hands that were drifting their way back up my legs would reach their final destination. I knew what his fingers, lips and tongue could do, and my deep and heavy breaths tried to convey that. I'm sure he could see what I was feeling by the way my pussy swaggered and swayed in front of him.
Instead, I felt his hands pull away, and I could hear his voice drifting off as he said, "You've been so cooperative. I think you deserve a treat."
I could hear the muffled "pop" of the Taittinger Reserve being opened. I could hear the bubble-laced liquid being poured into a glass.
"Here, my sweet," he said as he tipped the rim of the crystal flute onto my lips. I couldn't think of a more romantic, decadent, and oh-so-wrong way to consume this elixir that popped on my tongue like the lightest of kisses and subtlety iced my throat with its almost sweet liquid dryness.
I opened my mouth like a newly-hatched bird would with its wide open beak and its bobbing head, searching for a worm or a bug from its mother it could not yet see. I swore I could feel the next sip coming to my lips, but this time it was the soft-formed chocolate of a truffle that he let half-way into my mouth, keeping it on my teeth until I bit into it. I held onto the taste of raspberry and chocolate with a hint of espresso linger in my mouth until it completely coated and dissolved down my throat. The flavor and the taste was bigger, bolder and louder than anything I had ever eaten.
Michael brought the glass to my lips again. This time, he sucked on my tongue and my lips as if he was trying to taste any remnants of the wine that was left behind, and then pulled away. I leaned forward to properly finish that kiss, wanting to suck in his tongue and curl around it tightly with the intent to not let it go.
Then I felt the soft and lightest touch of two of his fingers trail on top of my open pussy lips, from the bottom to the top, making a quick and deliberate flip over my clit over the lace of my panties. I let out the biggest sigh over that one brief touch. The nerve endings of my lips and inner walls created a low running buzz from the wetness with which it came in contact. When I realized his hand pulled away and wasn't coming back, I only had the strength and spirit to barely whisper, "More, please."
My body began to tense again as did my breathing. When that didn't work as a cue to touch me, I began to flail my legs.
"If you only knew how hard it is for me not to take that pussy as my own, but I've never seen you more beautiful than you are now," he said. "You're the picture of elegance trapped raw, yearning lust I won't get to see if I have my way with you, but if you'll allow me one small indulgence ..."
His hand trailed up my torso to one of my breasts and slid its way through the top of my corset and squeezed my breast firmly. I threw my head back and let out a low, soft moan. Right before I could completely let out my breath, he pinched my nipple and slipped a finger under the warm and damp crotch of my panties and between my extremely slippery lips. I could swear I was dripping on his finger.
I slid my hips toward him to guide him to probe deeper and clenched my inner walls to lock in his finger. His finger twisted as it tried to pull out. Perhaps he really wasn't in as much control as he thought. Or maybe he was.
I could feel him come face-to-face with me with his lips brushing up against my lips as he mouthed these words: "You really want my tongue to probe you deep inside? To drink from your juices that flow so freely?"
"Yes," I sighed.
He nudged his finger a bit further inside and asked, "Or do you want my finger?"
"Yes!" I commanded.
He slipped a second finger inside, forced both of them inside deeper still with his fingertips pressing on the contours, and asked, "Or do you want two fingers?"
The intensity of what I was feeling was almost more than I could handle. My response was a loud and unequivocal: "Yes!"
