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"You can touch me, Marguerite. "
She didn't need to be told twice, reaching out to rub her palm over the solid heat of him. When his hand became a fist in her hair, she heard him exhale sharply.
"I want my cock in that hot, wet mouth of yours, Marguerite. " She wanted that, too. What's more, she wanted to be on her knees doing it. She sat up, swinging her legs to the side away from him, her world spinning both figuratively and in reality as the disorientation of her previous position descended on her. She felt his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.
"Easy," he said. "Easy now. "
None of this was easy. She'd been here less than a handful of hours and her emotions felt battered. Her body was not nearly sated, though she'd had more orgasms in this short time than she'd had in weeks.
"Come on. " When he threaded her arms into a satin robe, the silken fabric brushed her clamped nipples, making her pussy moisten further with need. Would this new level of wanting he'd unleashed in her ever stop?
He guided her into an adjoining bedroom that was even larger than the bathroom.
Decorated like a queen's sanctum, it had a canopy bed so high it required a velvet-cushioned set of stairs for it. A set of comfortable chairs were arranged next to a fainting couch. The arched floor-to-ceiling windows with their tapestry hangings gave the impression of a royal's chambers.
This was obviously where he
spent his nights with his submissives. She was sure that the mahogany lingerie chest and dresser held a wealth of sensual aids to make those nights memorable ones for the woman in question. It didn't please her. She balked at the door.
"This isn't your room. "
"No. This is our room. The room I share with a guest who honors me enough to let me share it with her. "
She wanted to pull away, back into the bathroom and stay there, not bring her skin into contact with things other women who had pleasured him had touched.
But this was training. This was not supposed to be personal. She wasn't his lover or girlfriend. She was having such difficulty holding on to rationality, this was one thing she could and would stay reasonable about. She stepped into the room, knowing her posture was too stiff. "All right. "
He studied her a long moment before speaking again. "Do you sleep on your stomach?"
She nodded. The king-sized bed, with comforter and pillows, looked like the most comfortable of nests. He probably shared it with women every other night.
"I'll give you five minutes in the bathroom. " He opened the front of her robe, removed the nipple clamps, causing her to sway as he massaged her. "We'll put these on in the morning. "
When she returned, soft lamp light filtered through the room and she noticed the fragrance of fresh flowers. A bowl of cuttings from the ginger plants was on the nightstand. Her legs were trembling as she crossed the room to him.
"Up you go. " Apparently noticing, he took her hand to guide her up the steps onto the bed. She curled her bare toes into the velvet cushioning. Before she lay down, he stopped her, slipped the robe off her shoulders. When he settled her on her stomach, his hands glided along her back, the curves of her buttocks. She closed her eyes, then immediately opened them as she felt a soft touch at her wrist. Snapping a fleece-lined cuff there, he threaded the tether attached to it through the bedrails and out the other side of spindles farther down the bed. When he secured the other wrist with a matching cuff, she could bend her arms or straighten them a modest amount but not enough to free them.
"Tyler. . . "
His hands efficiently arranged her legs, spreading them, restraining them in the same types of cuffs, only these he drew taut so she was helplessly exposed again. He further raised her trepidation by slipping a soft blindfold over her eyes.
Tyler turned on the heating element in the pillow topper so she'd be warm without covers and then trailed his fingers down the slope of her spine, down the crevice of her buttocks, probing her where so many emotional secrets were held. He brushed a hand over her lips under the blindfold, knowing the lack of sight, just like in the tub, would increase the sensitivity of her mouth.
"No kissing," she managed.
"Not unless you beg me," he agreed in a husky tone.
He put a knee on the end of the bed and Marguerite felt the mattress depress under his weight. Had a moment to wonder what he was doing.
Oh, God. His mouth settled over her newly shaved pussy, his nose tickling in between the smooth cleft of her buttocks as he began to lick her cunt, tiny incremental touches of his tongue, his breath hot on her flesh, teeth nipping.
Time began to have no meaning. When she was in the bathroom, she'd told herself that she could and would withhold the next orgasm he tried to wring out of her. But he didn't rush, seeming to enjoy having her pussy available to him, teasing it to raging heat then easing back, keeping her jerking and gasping with the tiny kisses and explorations of his far too clever tongue. Her buttocks writhed against his jaw as she tried to press down, get away from the inexorable demand. He simply scooped his hands under her thighs, lifted her up against her restraints and easily held her struggling hips, using her movement against her, creating more friction. His tongue slid down her clit with the lingering touch of a boy enjoying a creamsicle on a hot day. One savory lick at a time, a little sucking to keep the cream from dripping off the bottom.
Then, giving in to temptation, a whole covering of his mouth over the treat, teeth nipping at the edges, tongue swirling.
As she squirmed, her sensitized nipples rubbed against the bed. She couldn't keep doing this. There was no way. . . How could he be drawing out of her what no sub could? Pleasure was a measured response, more intensely felt if severely restrained, allowing almost a spiritual clarity in denial. This was its opposite but somehow it was the same, the confusing chaos of sensation and color taking her far past rational thought to a place where thought and even spiritual enlightenment were not necessary. It was the childlike joy and wonder of Eden, simply felt, accepted. Only she couldn't accept this. She began to fight the bonds uselessly, pulling against the iron headboard, trying harder to break free of his grasp.
His response was to lift her higher, the full several inches the tether allowed, letting her feel the restriction of the bonds more keenly. His one hand came under her, manipulating her pussy with devilishly knowledgeable fingers while his mouth went between her cheeks, tracing her rim, unleashing an incredible euphoria of feeling, everything from terror to ecstasy.
