Restraint

I flex my hands where they are tied to the arms of my chair. I cannot deny that I am comfortable, this chair has always been comfortable, but being attached to it with restraints is new. Not unpleasant, but new. The way you're looking at me is new, too. Its a look that says you are about to have an immense amount of fun, and judging by the way you're sitting on the desk before me, legs splayed and naked as the day you were born, its going to be far more fun for you than me.

You start by stroking yourself a little for me, coating your fingers with your own wetness and holding your hand up to show me the evidence of your desire. I can smell it, can almost taste it on my tongue. But because I'm forbidden from licking them clean, you do it for me, your tongue snaking out first to take a taste before you suck your fingers fully into your mouth.

I'm watching with rapt attention, my fingers itching to reach out and take your wrist and taste you for myself, but I refrain from struggling as you slide them back and forth between your lips, and I can't help but visualise the way they'll look when they're buried between your legs, as I know they will be. Then you're stroking them down your neck, trailing a slightly wet path between your breasts where you pause to pinch and roll your nipples around with your thumbs and fingers, tugging them almost painfully to attention as they become hard and full like little pink bullets.

I'm licking my lips, wanting my mouth around them, wanting my teeth to be the reason for those painfully pleasurable sounds you're making. You leave one nipple alone to stroke down your stomach, below your belly button where I can't see because you're hiding your most intimate parts behind my motorised sharpener. I just know that the next time I'm pushing a pencil into that machine I'm going to remember this and it will make me inexplicably hot.

You can see my eyes following your hand as it disappears behind the tool, so you have mercy and move it out of the way so I can see clearly between your spread legs, see your fingers spreading your folds wide open for me, watch as your middle finger circles your clit whilst your entrance flexes underneath. You tease by pressing just your fingertip inside and clenching so I can see you squeezing it, enveloping it with your inner muscles.

I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth because I'm dying to fuck you with it, to plunge it inside you and feel you clamping down. But instead I can only watch, can only grip the chair arms until my knuckles turn white whilst your other hand comes around your leg and you push two fingers into yourself, pump them hard whilst you're rubbing your clit faster and faster.

You're so fucking wet that I can hear the squelch of your fingers as you withdraw and slide them back into yourself and its making me fucking want you, to be the one fucking you and you're telling me you want me to, moaning my name along with pleas to fuck you harder.

You're breathing heavily, moaning loudly as you're coming. And as a final act you pull out and let me watch your muscles clench, your finger still rubbing furiously at your clit and wetness just gathering at your entrance as more and more is squeezed out by your contracting walls. And then you're slowing, being gentle with your sensitive clit, your stomach twitching at the strange sensations you're getting now you're all spent.

You smile languidly and I know it was good for you, and as you kneel between my legs and unbuckle my belt, I know its about to be good for me too.

You pull my belt from the loops on my jeans and discard it with a soft clunk on the floor. Then you unbutton me and pull down my zip, taking your own sweet time and smiling because you know what you're doing to me. As you start to pull at the leg of my pants, you pause, think something over, and then your hands are reaching up to my neck where they loosen my tie and pull it off.

You stand and step behind me, and then the world goes dark as you tie it around my eyes. I growl with displeasure but you ignore me and within seconds you're in front of me again, this time pulling at the buttons on my shirt until you can open it and expose the pale skin of my chest and stomach to the air. You return to my pants then, and this time you slide them off along with my boxers before pushing my legs as wide as they will go and heaving me forward so that I'm perched on the edge, completely at your mercy.

My stomach is quivering in anticipation as I wonder what you're going to do next. There's no warning before your mouth is on me, your lips clamped around me whilst your tongue dances against my clit. I'm bucking my hips against you because I'm already wet and ready and almost coming from your earlier show.

Primal sounds escape me as the pleasure becomes too much to keep quiet about. And then you're gone and I'm whimpering because I was so fucking close and I'm sure you knew it. I hear the opening and shutting of drawers and the clink of a buckle before you're back and caressing my open thighs, almost tenderly. And then I feel it, the smooth head of something I've never had before pushing up against my hot flesh insistently, invasively.

Its slick and cool with whatever you've put on it and I'm immensely grateful because even though I want it, and fuck, do I want it, I'm tensing nervously. You rub it almost lazily against me, long strokes that are making me crazy and causing my hips to jerk uncontrollably and you fucking love it, love having me so God-damn helpless before you.

You think I'm ready then, and you place the tip at my entrance and start urging it inwards slowly. I clamp down before you can even get the head in but you're having none of that. Your thumb goes to my clit immediately, pressing and circling firmly until I'm opening up to you again and you're able to work it inside. And fuck, it burns as I stretch around it but my clit is tingling and making it feel so fucking good at the same time. You take your time, never leaving my clit as you push two inches inside and pull one out, getting me accustomed to the feeling until its fully buried and hurting so fucking good.

You pause and I wonder if you're savouring this moment of triumph, savouring the image of me filled and about to be fucked. And then the moment is over and you're doing it, you're pulling back and driving your hips into me and I'm grunting with every inward thrust, the earlier pain having become a pleasure so acute that all I'm thinking is harder, fuck me harder. And maybe I shout it out because you do, you grasp my hips and slam it into me until I'm coming, clamping down around the length of it and screaming your name at the ceiling as the orgasm rips through my body.

Minutes later you're sliding out of me and straddling my thighs so that it rests, wet and warm, against my stomach. You kiss my face and stroke my neck, my shoulders and arms and all I can think is: Fuck...