She was blindfolded. She knelt on the floor, sitting on her heels. She was fully clothed, more or less, but it felt like she had on nothing, because she was that hot, and felt that vulnerable. She wore a t-shirt, thigh-highs, and a thong. Other items that he had ordered her to take off lay on the floor around her. Her shoes, her jeans, her bra. She remembered how it felt to take it off, and slide it out of the sleeve of her t-shirt. She could feel her nipples pressed against the shirt, and she was red, embarrassed, thinking of the show her body was now providing.
And then she remembered that she was wearing thigh-highs, and got even redder. If the tightness of the t-shirt wasn't like her, the wearing of these stockings REALLY wasn't. But she wore both, because he asked.
No, she thought, correcting herself.
Because he told her to.
She sighed to herself, lost in thought and anticipation, feeling the heat emanating from her now.
"Put your hands behind your head, lace the fingers."
She complied. And here I felt I couldn't seem more of a showpiece, she thought. But with her back arched now, and her chest forward, she knew
A hand on her chest, warm, placid, barely touching her, beneath her throat, above and between her chest. She flinched.
"Don't move, girl" she hears.
Her only response is to swallow, and breathe. Hard.
Her sight gone, her senses take over, and wait.
She feels the hand move, slowly, slowly, slowly, sliding now, barely moving at all, straight down. Even if she wasn't dying to be touched now on every square inch of her skin, of her body, this movement was barely sexual. His hand went between her breasts, not really close to the nipples, and just the pinky and thumb grazing the sides of them.
She felt them burning. Her nipples. She could feel her heartbeat in them, she wasn't them to be touched so badly now, the nipples like hot rocks, hard and burning.
The hand kept moving, slower, and slower, yet farther and farther. By the time it got to the piercing on her navel, the feeling in her nipples had already run through her back, down her spine, in between her ass cheeks and directly to her clit.
Which he wasn't even close to yet.
And which, she knew, was soaking her panties.
In her ear, quickly.
"Do you want to be fucked?"
"Yeeeeeeeee-" she responded, and as she spoke, she felt his hands on her knees, pushing them apart, sliding them across the floor and open, open, open farther. She can't really finish the word.
His hand stopped, and his first two fingers traced themselves to the first knuckle into the strap of her thong, still on her stomach, but now, if only in principle, behind the last barrier to her insides.
"Oh fuck." She heard herself say.
"Tsk tsk tsk, your mouth your mouth, we'll have to do something about that."
And his hand came away from her , leaving her there again, waiting.
Waiting, and burning.
His hands holding her arms, sliding from her shoulders beneath them to the elbows, back again, massaging, soothing, back and forth and back and forth again and again.
Then, heat, against her neck, as he stood behind her, heat that seemed to dwarf what she was feeling in her nipples, her cunt, her brain. Ohhhhhh she caught herself thinking, oh god oh that feels good as his cock slid along the right side of her neck, then back, tracing along, then slid again along the left side. Then right
The heat massaging her, pressing against her, the pre-cum JUST trailing along the back of her neck as he went side to side, holding her forearms. It made a "U" along the back of her neck, his fluid, and she inhaled deeply, smelling him on her like perfume.
She found herself moving back and forth with him, waiting and waiting and waiting and feeling every inch of him, every vein against her. Each time he was forward, his hips pressed into her back and his balls on her shoulders, she opened her mouth, as if to feel it. But only her neck was the recipient.
I'm getting fucked, she thought. God I'm already getting fucked, my cunt is dripping, I'm dressed like a slut, like a little toy, and I'm here getting fucked, my body, my neck and skin is getting fucked. Completely.
Before she could keep considering this, she felt the low, low, low, intense hum beneath her, inside her, and she moaned. Louder and louder with each stroke of him from behind her. If nothing was going in her mouth yet, the sound would come out.
And she could take it no longer. Without missing a beat of his cock on her skin, she moved her heel in one quick motion against her cunt beneath her thong, and it slid like oil, and she howled, and came.
And as she came, she barely heard it, lost in the waves, but she knew the voice, and heard it cut through her as she spasmed.
"The night is still young."
She continued to cum, and it was fed by the voice.