Author's note: Okay so it seemed like you guys enjoyed the last one, so...I wrote a little bit more. There's some weird stuff in this one too tho, but it's basically like 90 percent porn. If you guys want me to write more, but with like, more plot and less porn, just lemme know. I'd be happy to.
~
I come to. I'm hanging, partially suspended in the air by the cuffs around my wrists. They're looped around piping that was hidden in the low ceiling behind the roof boards. She must have removed them in search of a way out. I laugh darkly at that. There is none. Not without my voice. That's the only reason I'm not dead.
I look down. I'm not touching the ground. Instead, my shins are strapped to the chair, my feet poking through the space at lumbar height in the backrest, in a sort of half kneeling position. This way my hips are fully extended, I assume, to allow full access to my groin. If I lift my knees up, the chair comes up as well. Protecting my dick becomes a very exhausting measure.
I'm facing away from the interrogation window towards the wall. The desk is behind me. Interestingly, my pants are back up and my belt has been put back in place. Considering I passed out with my cock out, I'm a little confused as to why she did that. Then she speaks from behind me.
"Good morning, handsome."
I say nothing. I'm now wondering where she got rope. Then I look down again and I realize, it's pieces of her sweater that she used to bind my legs to the chair.
What is she wearing?
"I'm not wearing anything except my panties and my heels handsome,"
For a moment I believe she can read my mind.
"I know that's what you're thinking about. Such a dirty mind."
I shake my head. I must be losing it. Of course she saw me look down at the sweater.
I can't see her, but I also can't help imagining what she looks like behind me, sitting lazily against the wall, breasts in full view, nipples hard in the coldness of the room. One hand sliding up her taut abs and grabbing a breast, lightly pinching a nipple. I can see the smirk on her face in minds eye. My member grows in my pants.
"I can't have you seeing the ladies just yet baby," She says, and I imagine her biting her lip. "So I'm gonna need material to cover them. And seeing as how I generously donated mine to your legs, I think it would be fair if I used some of yours." Her tone is light with sexual suggestion.
I turn my head slightly and make no comment. I need a plan. I came in here with my fairbairn-sykes in my belt sheath behind my back, but my hands are cuffed above me. I start channelling. I can lift the chair and my body and crunch in order to allow my hands access to the knife. It'll mean getting my wrists a little bloody, but it'll be worth it if I get the knife. I prepare to lift my legs.
Her hand slaps my ass from behind. It startles me and I jump. I didn't hear her get up, even with my channelling.
"By the way," She says from behind me, "I relieved you of your tool. One massive stick is enough."
As her hands roam around my hips to my belt buckle, I realize what she means. Of course she took the knife. She put my pants back on, there was no way she wouldn't have noticed it. I feel slow. I need to replan. Need to focus.
Her hands aren't helping. They move slowly, sensually, with dark purpose. As she undoes my belt, I feel her breasts push up against my back and my cock twitches in my pants.
She notices, and her hands freeze, then slide lower for a second, pausing wrap around and squeeze my cock through the fabric. It reacts in her hands, beginning to flood with blood.
"Not yet." She murmurs.
Then she resumes sliding my belt off. Her hands leave with the belt, and I hear it fall to the ground. Suddenly her hands are cupping my ass.
"Mhmm," She says feeling me up. "Somebody does squats."
Her hands move to the front of my pants and I look down and watch as she unbuttons them, then slides the zipper down. Her fingers are slim, yet not dainty.
She grabs my waistband at the sides and slides it down to my knees, all the while her hard nipples are digging into my back. My dick, semi hard, is covered only by my boxers.
"I'm going to finish taking these off in a moment, but first, we can have a little fun."
Her hand sneaks between my legs and cups my balls through my underwear. She squeezes lightly, and my length tents my boxers.
Her voice is suddenly right next to my ear. She must be on the table behind me now.
"I love these," She whispers, tugging on them through the material, "Not only because they're so big, but because squeeze them just so, tug them just right, and they increase the pleasure tenfold, sometimes even prolonging orgasm." She pauses, then takes a firm hold on both my balls. "But at the same time, I have so much power. If I just squeeze slightly too hard," Her firm grip becomes painful, and I breath in sharply.
Her grip relaxes and resumes gentle massaging. She chuckles quietly, and her other hand comes around on the right and with one finger slides down the extremely prominent outline of my cock inside my boxers.
She begins whispering again.
"I wonder just how big you are. Bigger than anything I've ever taken before, that's for sure. Did you know you're a personal best for me? Fitting all that into my throat? Mmmm. I'm getting wet just thinking about it."
Her one continues groping my balls through my underwear. The other finishes trailing my outline before diving underneath my the hem of my boxers. The tip of my length is near the hem, so she bumps into the head of my cock almost immediately. She cups my sizable glans in her palm, and rubs the underside with a twisting motion. I let loose a small grunt, unable to stay quiet in the mounting pleasure of the work of both of her hands.
Her hand slides on, moving to the base of my cock. I feel extremely exposed, yet completely turned on.
I'm at her mercy, my cock is at her mercy.
I can't think about anything but how she's handling my cock. I can't plan, I can barely even formulate basic speech.
"What do you want." I finally ask, taking a full three seconds to string the words together.
"Me?" She says in my ear, her hand leaving my balls for a moment, before going up the inside of my boxers on the opposite end and circling my scrotum with her finger and thumb.
"No, the fifty other women in this room with their hands on my- unghh" I start dryly and end my sentence with a sharp groan as her one hand pulls down on my balls while the other simultaneously begins stroking me with a firm grip.
She kisses my ear while she jacks me off, and I shudder in pleasure.
"I just want to have fun handsome. I'm gonna make sure you do too, before I leave. I'm going to
milk
you, again, and again, until you physically can't cum anymore. I want to see
just how far
I can take you." As she says this, she pulls her stroking hand out, and my cock flexes involuntarily against the fabric to try and compensate for the sudden lack of friction. After a small quiet moment, her hand comes back shining with a sizable pool of saliva in the middle, and I watch as her hand carefully enters my boxers and lathers my cock, making sure, I assume, to not waste any lubricant.
she begins lightly stroking again, and after the slight pause I've become far more sensitive. The spit allows her to tighten her grip, and she does after a few seconds of teasing. She hits the underside of my glans for the first time mid stroke, sending both a bolt and shudder of pleasure through my body, and the chair lifts up along with my legs as my core flexes. I look down at her hands, and watch her work my cock, hampered by the boxers.
"Milking means you're not allowed to orgasm by the way." She says, working my dick with efficient strokes. "Did you know, that the orgasm and the actual ejaculation are separate events? You can make a man cum several times, but you can only make him orgasm once before the refractory period kicks in." My precum begins to stain my boxers. "And we can't have that. Sorry baby." Her breath tickles my ear. I'm barely paying attention to what she's saying, I'm too caught up in how fucking incredible it feels despite her lack of access.
"I bet you're wondering..." I'm not. I'm too busy trying to ignore her hands on her dick so I
can
wonder. "How will I know when you're about to cum?"
That's a good point. I definitely should have been wondering that.
"Well, men are full of tells. For instance, your balls tighten up and you tense. So I'll know exactly when you tip over the edge." She pauses and bites my earlobe, whispering through closed teeth directly into my ear. "But even If you could stop that, I can
feel
your heartbeat straight from your generous length," She stops biting my ear, and instead licks my earlobe once. "And with the help of a little bit of channelling, I'll be able to tell exactly how far you are from orgasm." She retreats from my ear and laughs darkly, her hands slowing for a moment. "That trick took me a few of poor victims to perfect."
As she speaks, her hands work their magic, and I feel myself beginning to start the climb to orgasm. Every couple of seconds her hand on my balls tightens and pulls down with the upbeat of the stroke. Fuuuuck. It feels insane. It's as if she's in my head, listening to what I want, when I want it. She begins to slow down, and I'm thankful. I don't want it be over too soon.
She coordinates my pleasure like it's a video game, gathering extra bonus points on the side. She isn't fully stroking my dick the entire time, rather just the inches near the base, but every now and then she times a full firm stroke, including passing over the sensitive part of my glans, along with a gentle tug on my scrotum, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I'm breathing like a marathon runner, my chest heaving as I race toward orgasm. I groan through every couple strokes. I can't help it.
"You feel my tits digging into your back?" She says as she pushes her hard nipples into my upper back.
I grunt my affirmation.
Her hands stop, and the one on my cock withdraws. Fuck. I need her hand back. I'm so far gone. I can't think about anything else.
