"Fuck. You," she said, grinning.
Focused, I tied up her other arm. When I yanked a bit on the tie to stretch her arm out to its limit, she sucked in her breath. I paused, and then pulled her a bit further. She moaned. She was stretched quite tightly against the shelf already, but she certainly wasn't in any pain. That must be arousal I was hearing. I pulled again, just a little further, and she cooed. I tied off the knot, roughly this time, and tightly. I noted with pleasure that the shelves were actually bolted to the wall at the back. Someone had put some thought into that...
She twisted her hands, suddenly, and turned them in the ties so that she actually held the original knot in her palm, wrapping her fingers around it. The silk made a smooth loop across the back of her wrist. I stepped back to look at the picture. Her legs were quite wide apart, and her arms stretched out at a lovely angle. She had very good arms.
Oh, what to do first. It was a bit like having a dessert cart wheeled to one's table. I moved up behind her and brought my hands round to embrace her, running my hands across the various planes and complex curves she made, feeling where her muscles rippled and pulsed as she moved toward my hands. With her legs spread this wide, she was a little shorter than usual, and I buried my face in her hair, breathed the scent around her neck. Unconsciously, my hands went to her nipples, and I lost myself in rubbing, pulling on them, squeezing her small breasts under my palms, pinching her nipples harder, and even harder until I heard her gasp. my whole body was hot, and my cock throbbed, still thrust out of my slacks and now pressed against the curve of her spine.
One hand moved down between her legs and I began to toy with her, just to explore at my leisure the little angles and folds, enjoying the moisture and the little moans I seemed to be inspiring. God, I wanted her, wanted to do everything to her at once, my cock everywhere, my hands everywhere. As the thought occupied me , my hands unconsciously tightened on her, gripping one breast and her mons, hard. Before I could catch myself and loosen up, she groaned and writhed back against my hips.
To take her. By surprise, my mind said again. To take her. I slid my hand down her back and found her pussy, and without preamble thrust two fingers all the way into her, hard, banging up until I felt like I could almost lift her off the ground. She groaned, and almost cried out.
"Too loud, love," I said, not slowing down, fucking her steadily with my hand. Her breathing was ragged and her teeth were clenched. "Here, let me help." I lifted the other hand off her clit and raised it up to thrust a knuckle between her teeth. "I don't have to tell you that if you bite too hard I'll stop, right?" She whimpered, and her head nodded just slightly. She drew my thick knuckle between her lips and sucked, hard, and her moans were quiet but intense as my fingers continued to ram into her, rhythmically.
"Somehow, you put me in mind of a kite, in that position," I breathed into her ear, not slowing my rhythm. One advantage of talking to her was that it tended to keep her quiet. Or at least a little less loud. "Suck that while I talk," I murmured, pressing my knuckle into her mouth a little further. It was an evocative size and shape in that position. She was alternately, whimpering, squealing and moaning, but it was muffled as she focused fiercely on sucking me . "You're all stretched taut, and white as paper, and there's something very airy about you, as if you could just catch one gust of wind and go sailing up..." and I slowed my rhythm slightly, ramming intently upward into her even more deeply, actually lifting her onto her toes. Her moans were completely surrendered, vibrating around my finger.
I took her, and took her, raising her nearly off the floor, until I felt like she was truly focused on nothing but the sensation of being fucked. Her head was back, eyes closed, and her hips were rocking in time with my fingers. I watched her carefully, and when it seemed like she was completely overtaken and involved in nothing but my fingers in her mouth and cunt, I abruptly pulled away and took two steps back.
Her reaction was electrifying. Her head whipped forward and sideways, straining to look back at me . Her whole body arched in deep frustration, writhing in its constraints. And the sound she made was a keening, angry whine, filled with rage. Her fists clenched around the ties and she fought against the bonds, genuinely frustrated by them.
I watched her, and my hand moved to stroke my cock. To have a woman so hungry for me that she was truly furious... it was amazing. I moved forward and thrust my fingers into her again, hard, once, twice, and again until I could tell that she thought I was back for more, and then again withdrew. Now her rage was even higher. This was honestly fucking with her, and it amazed me how easy I was finding it, how naturally I was coming to an understanding of her responses. What was more, it was making me more aroused than I could remember feeling -- a hot red lust that would have blotted out every thought, if my mind weren't balancing it so well. I felt like the top of my head was lifting off. I wanted to simply grab her right then, bend her over and slam steadily into her until I came, but on the other hand, my mind, now finally becoming an ally in the process, was busy wondering what sort of operations might be more possible if she were untied and bent over that table nearby...
The mix of completely primitive lust and coolly intellectual distance within me was fascinating. And I noticed that, as I stood at a slight distance from her, ruminating on my next step and appreciating the lovely way she was genuinely struggling with the bonds around her wrists, her frustration was rising to a completely desperate pitch. In a sense, I could drive her completely mad simply by standing still.
I moved quietly forward, and with one hand traced very lightly down the center of her belly to her mons, and found her cherry with a single fingertip. I held it completely still, just barely touching, and she writhed and mewled, pleading with me .
"You're liking my finger there?" I inquired as calmly as I could. She whimpered and nodded. "You're certainly on your way toward coming right now, am I right? Like, if I did this, for example," and I began to circle lightly, to flicker my finger slickly over her little button the way I'd seen her work on herself, "and if I kept it up, do you think that would make you come?" She nodded, humming plaintively. "Especially if I sped up, just a little bit, like this?" Her voice went up a couple of pitches, and her whine became a clear petition.
"Well, then, I'd better stop," I said abruptly. "But that's good to know." And I stepped to a safe distance. Her head whiplashed back and her body went into a raging spasm. "Ffffffuck..." she panted. "You bastard." Gingerly, I stepped toward her, still feeling like I didn't want to get too close, just in case the ties didn't hold. I peered round to look at her face. Her gaze could only be described as murderous. Again, I wondered if I'd gone too far. "Seriously?" I asked.
"You," she said, her face slowly transforming into that Boudicea grin again, "are a complete monster. An inhuman motherfucker with a very deep twisted streak." She was still panting, and her hips seemed to be shaking uncontrollably. But she was smiling. And she hadn't said 'seriously'.
I did my best to sound terribly wounded. "Here I'm sacrificing some very expensive ties for you and all you can do is complain. Monster, indeed. Where's the gratitude?" and I moved back again, a little involuntarily, when she growled.
I found my mind wandering back to that phrase. By surprise. To take her. It gave me so many ideas at once.
I considered the fact that I could reach more of her with more of me if she were somehow bent over. I backed up and looked around the room, ignoring the fact that she was genuinely twisting her hands, as if testing the strength of the restraints. I decided to go ahead and take my pants the rest of the way off -- I had finally noticed the discomfort of having my erection half-trapped in the open zipper, and as I undid my belt I remembered momentarily where I was.
"How long can we stay here, o she-who-tramples-imported-silk?" I thought I heard a chuckle.
"No time limit tonight, Torquemada," she said, and glanced at me over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.
"Interesting," I said. And took off my pants.
* to be continued *
Focused, I tied up her other arm. When I yanked a bit on the tie to stretch her arm out to its limit, she sucked in her breath. I paused, and then pulled her a bit further. She moaned. She was stretched quite tightly against the shelf already, but she certainly wasn't in any pain. That must be arousal I was hearing. I pulled again, just a little further, and she cooed. I tied off the knot, roughly this time, and tightly. I noted with pleasure that the shelves were actually bolted to the wall at the back. Someone had put some thought into that...
She twisted her hands, suddenly, and turned them in the ties so that she actually held the original knot in her palm, wrapping her fingers around it. The silk made a smooth loop across the back of her wrist. I stepped back to look at the picture. Her legs were quite wide apart, and her arms stretched out at a lovely angle. She had very good arms.
Oh, what to do first. It was a bit like having a dessert cart wheeled to one's table. I moved up behind her and brought my hands round to embrace her, running my hands across the various planes and complex curves she made, feeling where her muscles rippled and pulsed as she moved toward my hands. With her legs spread this wide, she was a little shorter than usual, and I buried my face in her hair, breathed the scent around her neck. Unconsciously, my hands went to her nipples, and I lost myself in rubbing, pulling on them, squeezing her small breasts under my palms, pinching her nipples harder, and even harder until I heard her gasp. my whole body was hot, and my cock throbbed, still thrust out of my slacks and now pressed against the curve of her spine.
One hand moved down between her legs and I began to toy with her, just to explore at my leisure the little angles and folds, enjoying the moisture and the little moans I seemed to be inspiring. God, I wanted her, wanted to do everything to her at once, my cock everywhere, my hands everywhere. As the thought occupied me , my hands unconsciously tightened on her, gripping one breast and her mons, hard. Before I could catch myself and loosen up, she groaned and writhed back against my hips.
To take her. By surprise, my mind said again. To take her. I slid my hand down her back and found her pussy, and without preamble thrust two fingers all the way into her, hard, banging up until I felt like I could almost lift her off the ground. She groaned, and almost cried out.
"Too loud, love," I said, not slowing down, fucking her steadily with my hand. Her breathing was ragged and her teeth were clenched. "Here, let me help." I lifted the other hand off her clit and raised it up to thrust a knuckle between her teeth. "I don't have to tell you that if you bite too hard I'll stop, right?" She whimpered, and her head nodded just slightly. She drew my thick knuckle between her lips and sucked, hard, and her moans were quiet but intense as my fingers continued to ram into her, rhythmically.
"Somehow, you put me in mind of a kite, in that position," I breathed into her ear, not slowing my rhythm. One advantage of talking to her was that it tended to keep her quiet. Or at least a little less loud. "Suck that while I talk," I murmured, pressing my knuckle into her mouth a little further. It was an evocative size and shape in that position. She was alternately, whimpering, squealing and moaning, but it was muffled as she focused fiercely on sucking me . "You're all stretched taut, and white as paper, and there's something very airy about you, as if you could just catch one gust of wind and go sailing up..." and I slowed my rhythm slightly, ramming intently upward into her even more deeply, actually lifting her onto her toes. Her moans were completely surrendered, vibrating around my finger.
I took her, and took her, raising her nearly off the floor, until I felt like she was truly focused on nothing but the sensation of being fucked. Her head was back, eyes closed, and her hips were rocking in time with my fingers. I watched her carefully, and when it seemed like she was completely overtaken and involved in nothing but my fingers in her mouth and cunt, I abruptly pulled away and took two steps back.
Her reaction was electrifying. Her head whipped forward and sideways, straining to look back at me . Her whole body arched in deep frustration, writhing in its constraints. And the sound she made was a keening, angry whine, filled with rage. Her fists clenched around the ties and she fought against the bonds, genuinely frustrated by them.
I watched her, and my hand moved to stroke my cock. To have a woman so hungry for me that she was truly furious... it was amazing. I moved forward and thrust my fingers into her again, hard, once, twice, and again until I could tell that she thought I was back for more, and then again withdrew. Now her rage was even higher. This was honestly fucking with her, and it amazed me how easy I was finding it, how naturally I was coming to an understanding of her responses. What was more, it was making me more aroused than I could remember feeling -- a hot red lust that would have blotted out every thought, if my mind weren't balancing it so well. I felt like the top of my head was lifting off. I wanted to simply grab her right then, bend her over and slam steadily into her until I came, but on the other hand, my mind, now finally becoming an ally in the process, was busy wondering what sort of operations might be more possible if she were untied and bent over that table nearby...
The mix of completely primitive lust and coolly intellectual distance within me was fascinating. And I noticed that, as I stood at a slight distance from her, ruminating on my next step and appreciating the lovely way she was genuinely struggling with the bonds around her wrists, her frustration was rising to a completely desperate pitch. In a sense, I could drive her completely mad simply by standing still.
I moved quietly forward, and with one hand traced very lightly down the center of her belly to her mons, and found her cherry with a single fingertip. I held it completely still, just barely touching, and she writhed and mewled, pleading with me .
"You're liking my finger there?" I inquired as calmly as I could. She whimpered and nodded. "You're certainly on your way toward coming right now, am I right? Like, if I did this, for example," and I began to circle lightly, to flicker my finger slickly over her little button the way I'd seen her work on herself, "and if I kept it up, do you think that would make you come?" She nodded, humming plaintively. "Especially if I sped up, just a little bit, like this?" Her voice went up a couple of pitches, and her whine became a clear petition.
"Well, then, I'd better stop," I said abruptly. "But that's good to know." And I stepped to a safe distance. Her head whiplashed back and her body went into a raging spasm. "Ffffffuck..." she panted. "You bastard." Gingerly, I stepped toward her, still feeling like I didn't want to get too close, just in case the ties didn't hold. I peered round to look at her face. Her gaze could only be described as murderous. Again, I wondered if I'd gone too far. "Seriously?" I asked.
"You," she said, her face slowly transforming into that Boudicea grin again, "are a complete monster. An inhuman motherfucker with a very deep twisted streak." She was still panting, and her hips seemed to be shaking uncontrollably. But she was smiling. And she hadn't said 'seriously'.
I did my best to sound terribly wounded. "Here I'm sacrificing some very expensive ties for you and all you can do is complain. Monster, indeed. Where's the gratitude?" and I moved back again, a little involuntarily, when she growled.
I found my mind wandering back to that phrase. By surprise. To take her. It gave me so many ideas at once.
I considered the fact that I could reach more of her with more of me if she were somehow bent over. I backed up and looked around the room, ignoring the fact that she was genuinely twisting her hands, as if testing the strength of the restraints. I decided to go ahead and take my pants the rest of the way off -- I had finally noticed the discomfort of having my erection half-trapped in the open zipper, and as I undid my belt I remembered momentarily where I was.
"How long can we stay here, o she-who-tramples-imported-silk?" I thought I heard a chuckle.
"No time limit tonight, Torquemada," she said, and glanced at me over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.
"Interesting," I said. And took off my pants.
* to be continued *
