You are not so delicate that you cannot be devastated.
I will not let you be detached.
You will be here. With me.
And you will be devoted.
Blindfold. Red silk. Leather belt.
I remove your sight so you can better focus on my words. In the dark, my touch is your only guide.
You don’t want to get lost do you? Stay close to my voice.
You can feel the silk I wind from wrist to wrist; it caresses your skin softer than my own touch. Silk is the definition of gentle but firm, wound ribbons about your wrists and arms until they are bound.
My belt is an imperfect instrument, but imperfect instruments are meant for impure acts. The tail of my belt rests atop the silk, binding your forearms together even tighter. It is not quite cruel, but it is not so gentle either.
I leave your bound arms above your head.
There. Now you are bound.
My knee nestles at the top of your thigh with just enough pressure to keep your lower half pinned where I want it.
The beauty of darkness is anticipation.
You wait.
Helpless.
Go ahead, tug at the silk and leather. I want you to.
The harder you test your binds, the better you know how well and truly caught you are. You know it. I know it. And your hidden self knows it best of all. You might not be ready to surrender but it’s her that is arching your hips to meet my knee in raw need.
You strain. You shiver. And you wait in the darkness.
I do not make you wait long.
My teeth find your nipples. One at a time I nip, I bite, I tease them until they ache, until they are painfully hard and sensitive.
Shall I show you a trick?
When your nipples are this sensitive…one lick…one light tug on them…and you can feel it in your clit. I pluck this string between your breasts and your clit until the line tightens into an instrument for me to play.
And I do.
You call me cruel. Is it cruelty if you want it? Need it?
I’m only getting started.
Because I will not relent. I’ll capture each nipple between my teeth and watch you writhe when my hand slides between your thighs to fill you and take possession of your cunt.
My hand knows you well. Two fingers curled inward. They are a perfect fit and they open you in a way nothing else I have done could have. Because now I am inside you, I am part of you, and I am claiming from within, fingers engaged in the forceful drive to make you ache.
How much stimulus can you handle? Teeth, nipples. Fingers, cunt. Did you forget my other hand? I rest it on the small of your back and then let your curves draw it down to your ass for a nice firm grip that lets me guide you harder onto my fingers.
I feel you tense. Your breath is ragged. You clench.
I stop.
Not yet.
I leave my fingers buried deep inside of you and leave a path of small bites along your hips until my lips are close enough to join them.
Can you feel my breath against the inside of your thighs?
My own breath is harsh. You’re not the only one that is hungry.
I nuzzle closer, finally drawing my fingers out to more fully part your thighs, leaving you open and vulnerable. I start with a light taste, a lick, just along the outside. But it’s not enough. I go deeper, tongue starting at the edge of your ass and drawn all the way up to your clit.
You’re not just shivering now. You are shaking. Your thighs tremble in my hands as I taste again, long slow licks, like a wolf lapping at a bowl of milk.
You taste divine.
My lips settle at your clit, and my teeth graze the edges. You feel like you are walking a tightrope, caught between razor ends. You’re only option is to fall.
And when my fingers slip inside of you while my tongue finds that perfect rhythm along the edge of your clit that makes your body hum.
You do. You fall.
You can feel it, can’t you? My tongue, my fingers. My words pulsating inside you. And that edge you need to claim is yours. And you are cumming for me.