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He brushed his thumb over her lips. She parted them ever so slightly, offering but not demanding. The kiss, unexpected and completely welcomed, startled a gasp from her. She thought he would tease for a long, long time before he allowed her the taste of his kiss. Instead he devoured her lips and swept his tongue into her mouth. She quivered and melted under his onslaught, grateful for the cuffs and chains holding her upright.
He gripped her head and pushed his chest against hers. She had no leverage to balance his forcefulness, and his kiss literally knocked her off her feet. She ignored the increased stress on her shoulder and wrist joints, but he did not. He broke the kiss, leaving her breathless and wanting. She felt his hands on her hips as he moved her back into place so that her feet bore the brunt of her weight.
He massaged her shoulders. “How are you doing? Wrists okay?”
As he held her, his thumbs pressed just under her arms, where she was dangerously ticklish. She jumped at the sensation and swallowed an unwanted laugh. “They’re fine, Master.”
“Shoulders?”
She felt his frown. If she didn’t know him better, she would have thought she had displeased him. His tight tone seemed to foretell the end of their game, but she knew his tone resulted from the depth of his concern. He had to trust her to tell him when he went too far. No master could read minds.
“My shoulders are fine, Master. I’m a little ticklish. That’s all.”
“I see. So torturing you with a feather would be counterproductive?”
She’d never once had a lover who engaged in light sensory play. So far they’d all liked bondage or they’d been on the prowl for a true painslut, which she was not. The prospect of Sean taking the time to learn her body in such a thorough and intimate way made her heart thump loudly. “It depends on what you wish to accomplish, Master. I’m not ticklish everywhere.”
He didn’t respond with words, and he didn’t use a feather. He prowled her body with his fingertips, brushing them from her leather-clad wrists to her shoulders. He did this over and over, caressing every single inch of skin. He moved to stand behind her and lavished the same care over her back.
The pressure of the caresses changed. He used the flat of his hands. He traced trails with his fingertips. He rubbed the inside of his wrists over her hips. By the time he made it to her ass, he had added his lips and tongue. When he licked a path down her spine, Marcella felt as if her body would erupt in flames.
He worshipped her legs, down the back and up the front. She felt the puff of his breath against her bare pussy. She heard him inhale deeply. Normally she liked to be blindfolded, every sensation magnified a thousand times. Yet it robbed her of the sight of Sean’s face as he looked at her, touched her. She desperately wanted the visual, especially because this was their first time together.
“Your cunt is one the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, Marcella. It’s the prettiest shade of pink, a little darker than what your cheeks turn when you blush. I think every time I see you blush from now on, I’ll be picturing this.” He brushed his fingertips over her mons and avoided her pulsing, weeping lips.
Cool air rushed across her slit as he blew, causing her to moan and thrust her hips forward.
“Your pussy is so wet and swollen, Cella, and the tip of your clit pokes out just a little.” Heat seared her clit as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub. “It tastes musky and sweet. I think later I’ll put you in the swing so I can taste all of you. What do you think of that, my sweet slave?”
He licked just the tip of her clit again and again. Marcella struggled with an answer. She wanted him to put her in the swing right now and finish what he’d begun, but she knew he was practicing for the first round of the show, when she would not be allowed to climax. Her state of constantly heightened arousal would titillate the audience, keeping them on the edge.
“If it pleases you, Master.” Really, it was the only reasonable response. Good submissives didn’t demand, and she wasn’t in the habit of topping from the bottom.
He rose to his feet. The scent of her arousal tickled her nose for a split second before he kissed her again. She tasted the barest trace of her juices on his tongue. He broke the kiss and patted her on the ass. “It pleases me.”
He tickled over her ribs as he finished his exploration. He had yet to touch her breasts, but he hit a particularly sensitive spot, and she twitched and jumped.
“Ticklish?”
“Yes, Master.”
He increased the pressure of his fingertips. “Now?”
