I enter the room to find him lying naked and bound on the mattress on the floor. He's shivering a little with... Cold or anticipation perhaps. The room is a little cold, and quite dark. His hands are tied above his head, bound with velvet rope. The knots are quite firm but not harsh. He has chafed his wrists a little in his struggles against them. A velvet blindfold covers his eyes. How he fought when he was tied, it was quite the struggle not to hurt him or allow him to harm himself. Our words of comfort did not seem to have any effect. Such a proud creature would not bow so easily, it is what makes him all the more desirable. I staked my claim immediately – this one is for me. The others are disappointed – let them find their own.
He has heard me enter and turns his head towards the sound of the door. I close it firmly behind me. I wait to see if he will speak. He does not. By my feet is a soft cashmere blanket he has thrown off in his struggles. Gently I pull it over him. He shivers away, but is unable to move much further from me. I reach out to his face and gently stroke his cheek. He recoils as if slapped. It is to be expected – he doesn't know why he is here or what we will do to him next. Again I softly stroke his cheek and neck, taking care to keep clear of his teeth. It is only to be expected that he will try and attack in any way he can. I do not begrudge him this, it is his right.
"Don't touch me." He snarls. I ignore him and continue my gentle caressing. He struggles a little as I firmly hold his jaw and move in to sensually kiss his neck. This confuses him, and for a moment he relaxes. How warm, how lightly bristled the feel of his throat. The firmness of his jaw, the soft spike of his hair as I run my fingers through it. He is shivering again, and this time I am sure it is with confusion and anticipation rather than fear.
I sit up and lift the blanket away so that I can fully enjoy the view of his body. Muscled limbs, broad smooth chest, and a light coating of hair on his stomach. His biceps swell as he once more struggles against the rope secured to the wall in its ring. I wait for him to relax again, to give in. His penis lies flaccid on his thigh, one ankle shackled to the wall to prevent escape. A short chain prevents him from giving me the kicking I'm sure he would prefer. I smile to myself. His body is breathtaking in its muscular beauty.
I stand and slide my clothes off taking care to keep them out of his reach. He appears to be listening, although he does not move. This time I move over him, letting my warm calf touch his leg to reassure him. He shivers but does nothing. My hands caress his throat, his chest, move down to his hips and thighs. I stroke between his thighs taking care not to touch his penis, now beginning to swell in spite of himself. His back arches up as my hands stroke him all over. I firmly hold his face again and kiss the other side of his jaw, my lips moving down over his chest. My breasts sway beneath me, stroking his body with my nipples even as my lips kiss and caress his chest and stomach. Moving lower, he arches his back again. This time he is erect, and his quivering is of need and desire. His penis is hard, a small drop of precum on the tip as I blow my warm breath upon it.