"I can't
believe
you fell for that!" she exclaimed.
It took a minute for her words to click in my head.
"But...
Katie!
She..."
Sarah giggled again, amused at my sheer confusion.
"You don't
seriously
think she'd get you into bed by begging to borrow a textbook, do you? You two should actually write each other love notes once in a while. Maybe
then
you'd know what her handwriting really looked like."
"But the
message!"
I sputtered.
"It's Facebook, honey. You don't have to be a master hacker to get onto your roommate's account. Not when she's dumb enough to leave her laptop lying around."
Sarah drew closer.
Instinct kicked in. My free right hand shot over to the left side of the bed as I reached for the leather shackle tying my left hand down.
Sarah was already way ahead of me: she reached out with both hands and grabbed my right arm as my fingers fumbled with the buckle on the shackle. I felt one of her hands clamp down on my wrist, the other tight around the crook of my arm. With all her might, she pulled my arm towards the right side of the bed—towards the one free shackle.
"Uh-uh... You're staying
right
here," she said.
I fought her as long as I could, pulling my arm left as she pulled it right. But it was hopeless, and I knew it. She had two free hands, and I had one.
I wrestled with her for at least a minute before she forced my arm down to the bed. As if that wasn't enough, she raised her leg and planted her knee down on my arm, pinning it down as she went to work shackling my wrist.
In desperation, I futilely kicked my bound feet, my body trembling helplessly.
With my last free limb tightly secured in place, Sarah got down from the bed and looked me over, clicking her tongue with satisfaction.
"God damn it..." I moaned. "
Why the hell are you doing this?"
"'Cause it's my birthday," Sarah said. "I've always wanted to have my very own piece of man-meat at my mercy. Me and Katie share
everything
in this apartment. I don't see why she should have the cute submissive boy all to herself."
"But... But I'm not—!"
"You mean you
don't
want a powerful woman to teach you your place? You
don't
want to be tied up and flogged and spanked and forced to
beg
for the right to cum? That's not what you said in all those messages, is it?"
For a moment, I thought my heart would stop.
"You... You
read
those?"
She smiled.
"They're a hell of a read, David. I couldn't resist. Katie
really
needs to keep a better eye on her computer... I suppose I should thank her, though. Some of those fantasies of yours got me
real
hot and bothered. You don't know how long I've dreamed of doing this to a man."
She knew. Every dirty message that I'd sent to Katie, late at night when I couldn't stop thinking about her. She knew, and she'd use them against me.
"Enough about all that, though... You want to see my
other
birthday present?"
I didn't answer. I had a feeling she wouldn't take "No" for an answer.
"Stay right there," she said playfully. "Don't go anywhere."
As light on her feet as ever, she scampered off into the living room, and came back with that white cardboard gift box that I'd seen earlier. She set it down on the ground, bent down to open it, and pulled out her gift.
It was a red leather corset—the color of dried blood—all done up with black lace trim, with silver buckles on the side.
She stroked the leather fondly.
"I've always wanted one of these. One of my girlfriends back home remembered, God bless her..."
She winked down at me, then turned around.
Without saying a word, she stripped off her white t-shirt and tossed it to the floor. She wore no bra underneath, giving me a perfect view of her well-muscled back, right down to those two cute dimples above her ass. With the shirt gone, I got a good look at those skintight black leggings that showed off the shape of her toned bottom so damn well.
Then she moved her hands downward, gently running her fingers down her slim thighs to draw my gaze. She hooked her thumbs into her leggings and slowly peeled them off, revealing her cute behind a little bit at a time.
She wore a pair of black boy-shorts under her leggings, patterned with tiny hot pink skulls-and-crossbones. As she bent down to pull her leggings from her ankles, she stuck her ass out towards me, and her underwear slid down
just
far enough to give me a tantalizing peek at the crack of her buttocks.
I wanted to curse at her. I wanted to beg for mercy. But my gaze was drawn to that perfect butt like a magnet. For now, I was speechless.
She stood up straight again, slightly wiggling her hips as she adjusted her boy-shorts and pulled them back up—covering up her exposed crack, but exposing the ample cleavage of her cheeks as she pulled her underwear snug against her butt. Covering her bare breasts with her arm, she twisted around to look back down at me, savoring that glazed look in my eyes as I stared dumbly up at her.
Then she turned back around, breathed in deep, and pulled that red leather corset around her midsection, practically giddy with anticipation as she pulled each silver side-buckle tight. A dancer to the core, she could hardly stand still as she buckled herself up; with each strap, she swayed back and forth on her feet, making her ass jiggle ever so slightly.
And then she whirled around to face me, twirling gracefully on the ball of one foot.
She gave me a good view of that lithe dancer's body, with barely anything left to the imagination. Pushed up in that tight corset, he small breasts practically spilled out, the swell of her cleavage tantalizingly on display. In those immodest little boy-shorts, I could see every inch of her slender legs, right down to her dainty feet with the nails painted electric blue.
When she bent down over her array of toys in the drawer, I felt my eyes again drawn irresistibly to her tight little ass—small but round, and oh so firm.
Her lips curved in a mischievous smile, and she put a hand to her mouth as a high-pitched giggle escaped. She was so giddy. So joyful. How could someone like
this
have a sadistic streak?
She leaned in close, stepped over my body, and moved to straddle me.
