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“Let’s see what I can do with this on you.”
“Didn’t we already do the tying up thing before?” she asked, referring to the encounter we’d had in the fabric room of a fashion school not so long ago.
“I don’t plan to restrain you, so this experience is completely new. Plus, the sensations of silk versus rope are vastly different.” I uncoiled some of the silk and teased the delicate column of her neck with the tip of the material. “Want to try it?”
She spread her arms out, smirking, and said, “I’m game.”
Moving in front of her, I lifted her hair and brought the silk ribbons around her shoulders, setting it on her collar like a tie. Then, I began to work a crisscross shape over and around her chest and breasts. With each pass off the spool, I cinched and compressed her skin and muscles, restricting her breathing. I used no knots as I had with the ropes in the fabric room of the fashion school. This was more of a weave from her shoulders, down her breasts, and along her abdomen and torso.
Her nipples puckered and strained as the blood flowed to the tips, begging for attention. With the white silk, I created an intricate corset around her body, accentuating her sensual perfection.
She kept her eyes on me, head slightly tilted back, not saying a word. Only the shallow pants of her breath and the slight shifts of her legs gave away the heightening of her arousal.
Deciding to add to her desire, I picked up another spool, this one in a shade of light pink. I cut a small section, took the strip, and covered her eyes, tying the fabric behind her head.
“Damon,” she gasped, her palms resting on my chest.
“From now on, all I want you to do is feel. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
She swallowed. “I hope you do.”
“It’s a promise.” I leaned down, taking her lower lip into my mouth and giving it a bite, hard enough to sting but not break the skin.
I moved behind her to create a binding that added an extra constriction but still allowed her to breathe, even if it was with some restrictions.
Her skin flushed, and her lips parted as a whimper escaped.
She clutched her fingers against her palms, and she squeezed her thighs together as she shifted side to side. “Damon, what is happening to me?”
“The real question is, do you like it?”
Goose bumps pebbled over her skin, and she leaned her weight along the front of my body. “Yes.”
“What does it feel like?”
“It’s different than the ropes, but I feel more confined for some reason, as if I’m more bound to you.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I slid my fingers down to her exposed slick pussy lips and stroked the tip of her swollen clit peeking out.
“I don’t know.” She gasped and arched into my touch, grasping my arm. “Please, I need.”
“What is it you want?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. This is so different. The sensations.”
Her confusion had me smiling. I pushed my fingers into her sopping core, pumping in and out of her. Her muscles contracted around me, flooding me with her desire. Her legs grew weak, and I circled my arm around her waist to hold her up, continuing my ministration.
Bringing her right to the point of going over, I stopped, pulling out of her heat; I brought my fingers to her lips. “Suck.”
She followed my command, licking up her essence.
I walked her forward, closer to the full-length mirror. Pulling the mask off her eyes, I let her adjust to the light in the room and made her look at herself, her arousal coating her mouth, her glazed eyes, her exquisite swollen pussy lips, wet and glistening.
Her gaze met mine. Her hunger in her eyes was so raw my cock grew to a steel rod, heavy and so ready to fuck.
“Are you going to leave me hanging?”
“Do you think I would leave you hanging after not having you for so many weeks?”
