Now she imagines they are
his
hands. There is a tiny, hidden ache in her when she thinks of him, a glimmering of the impossibility of being fully satisfied without him. She wonders if revulsion would replace his appreciation if he saw her without any concealment. She stops caring and lets their hands roam.
He cups her breasts, hands overflowing with them, and she thinks she should apologize. She knows he prefers smaller- a mouthful, he says- but she doesn't want to be sorry for what she is. She thinks he would encourage that defiance, if he knew. She lies stretched lengthwise with her arms above her head and feels a morbid sense of pride when his fingers slide over her now-prominent ribs. He moves to her abdomen and she cringes, knowing he's certainly reached the stretch marks that cover so much of her lower torso. He says nothing- doesn't even pause- and slips down to her thighs. She'd hoped he would continue on the path that would have brought him to the hot, wet core of her, but knows he plans to wait. This pass is just a fact-finding mission, learning the lay of the land in order to chart his course. His hands run over her calves and she flexes her feet with delight. He's slow and deliberate, but after all just skimming her surfaces. She tries to be patient even as she knows it's not up to her anymore- that he has control.
Working his way up now, he stops at her neck and kisses her throat. His right hand settles into the spot where her shoulder meets and he presses a thumb against her windpipe- gently at first, but more firmly after a moment. Neither speaks but she can feel her pulse in her stomach beat faster and more powerfully. He watches her face for any sign of true discomfort and, seeing none, strengthens his grip. Now she can hear the blood rushing in her ears and her face feels a bit swollen. She had been breathing calmly through her nose but suddenly her mouth opens and she gasps. He immediately lets go of her, bends down, and kisses her hard. Although feeling a little dizzy, she eagerly returns the forcefulness and lightly bites his lower lip. He snakes his hand around her head and grabs a handful of her hair at the roots and pulls her away. With her chin now pointing up, he bites the point where he had throttled her and she makes a sound like she's growling. He nips at her again and this time elicits a low moan. She tries to be careful not to let on just how much she's enjoying this, since she knows he'll stop to tease her more. She isn't cautious enough, however, and he smirks at her in the dark and sits back.
There's a strange rasping, slithering sound and she's both curious and nervous. She thinks she knows what it might be, but until the cord glides over her wrists she can only presume. He deftly secures the binding and she hears metal click against metal- when she tugs downward she finds she's held fast. In her excitement she is yet dismayed as she's unable to touch him at all now. When she feels him take her ankles and wrap the same satiny but unyielding rope around them, she forgets her disappointment and gives herself over to anticipation. She twists minutely, testing the bonds, and giggles- her arms are tied together over her head but her legs are tied separately and somewhat spread apart. There's enough slack for her to move a bit if she starts to hurt but no more.
Oh, he's good.
In their mutual silence, they come to the understanding that there will be no safe word. She will either bear this or not. It is more than a simple game, flirting with the boundaries of depravity but not really risking anything. There is much at stake here but she expresses no fear and so he continues.
He sits near her but doesn't stir for several protracted minutes. She begins to wonder if he's left the room and she hadn't heard when softly, slowly, a finger traces the line of her lower leg. He exhales- not quite a sigh but more than just a breath out- and takes his hand away. He stands and steps closer and it's her turn to breathe harder. The bed gives under his weight and now he is sitting right next to her. His hand drops to her left shoulder and runs down the length of her arm to the tips of her fingers. Without losing contact, he continues around and crosses her palm to go up the inside of her arm, stroking the inner elbow with his thumb. He reaches her chest and delicately grazes his own palm over her breast, over the hardening nipple, across the taut skin of her breastbone to her right breast and the already-erect nipple there. She refuses to break so easily, and clamps her teeth down on her tongue to keep from whimpering. He shifts toward her a little more and puts a hand directly above each breast and the warmth is almost more than she can stand.
As she tries to arch her back to intensify the pressure, before she can notice and attempt to brace herself, he pinches both nipples and smiles when she yelps in surprise. Maintaining his hold, he waits until she stops panting and squeezes again, more sharply than before. She sucks in her breath and only lets slip a short groan. His grin broadens and he pinches once more, as hard as he can. Now she screams, and when she catches her breath she screams again. When she's finally quiet he releases her and dips his head to take each throbbing nubbin of soft skin into his mouth. His tongue swirls around and over, every swipe seeming a subtle demand for forgiveness. She sighs and relaxes, whispering a wordless agreement.
This is an excellent culmination of pain and pleasure
, she thinks, and steadies herself for what's to come.
(to be continued)
