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A woman gets my attention sitting on the red leather couch.When did she get there?She wears a black silk robe with a matching sash secured high on her stomach. Her dark brown hair is slicked back into a perfect bun. I never can figure out how to get mine to look so flawless. She has one leg crossed over the other and has topped off her look with red heels that match the couch.
She sits perfectly still like a doll. The only thing that shows she’s real is her eyes. They follow the man on stage like a hawk. Wherever he stands, her eyes follow.
Two men walk onto the stage, and she gets to her feet. The main guy turns to face her. “Remove your clothes,” he orders her.
With her eyes on his, she reaches down and unties the sash, then she slowly pushes the robe off her shoulders, and it pools on the stage at her heels. She’s naked underneath like I expected.
I’m as bad as the men I sit with because my eyes shamelessly look over her naked body. She’s gorgeous. Her boobs are fake, larger than mine, so at least a double D. She’s got a thin waist and long, lean legs. Not a single blemish to be seen. No tattoos, no scars, not even a scratch on her freshly spray-tanned skin. She has a Barbie-doll-shaped face with big pouty lips that I envy. Long, dark lashes fan her cheeks when she blinks. I can’t look away. She’s what any guy would drool all over.
“Hailey is a BDSM model,” the familiar-looking man announces to the crowd as the other two begin to tie her up. “She has experience and knows her limits. What we’re about to do is not something I’d recommend for a beginner.”
The two men walk off the stage, leaving her standing naked with her arms now secured behind her back. The way they tied her up reminds me of how Saint tied me up on the day I sucked the dildo in his office. It’s not identical, but it’s similar.
“This particular form of Shibari is known as a box tie,” the guy states, running the tips of his fingers along the rope wrapped around her large breasts. “Turn around,” he tells her, and she places her back to the crowd to show how her arms are secured behind her back. “This should be comfortable enough that your partner can spend a long time restrained in this position. If done correctly, it should feel like a snug hug.”
The rope is wrapped around each breast and cinched tight in the middle. It wraps around her upper shoulders to where her arms are tied parallel to her back. He walks over to her and grips her neck. Her eyes go heavy as he yanks her into him. Nothing but devotion in them. Pure lust and the need to please him.
I get it.
Some of us are just wired differently than others.
His free hand drops between her legs, and she begins to pant, her nipples hardening.
“My whore is soaked,” he states, and a few men in the audience laugh. Letting go of her neck, he slaps her pretty face, making her whimper. His hand goes back to her throat, and he squeezes. Her pouty lips fall open, but nothing comes out. His hand between her legs picks up, the sound of him fingering her fills the room as her watery eyes remain on his. Her hips buck as she rocks on her high heels, riding them.
He pulls them free and places his fingers into her mouth, pushing them down her throat. She doesn’t even gag. Instead, you see her relax her jaw as his fingers disappear down to his knuckles, spreading her mouth wide open.
“You’re such a good girl, princess,” he praises her, and she blinks. The tears spilling down her mascara-covered lashes leave a trail on her once flawless face. She has a full face of makeup on with black shadow, thick winged liner, and red lipstick. I’ve never understood the appeal when Saint would have me get all dolled up just to mess it up. But I do now. She looks even prettier with the black running down her cheeks.
He removes his hand from her mouth, and she takes a deep breath before swallowing. “Let’s get started.” He walks over to the far corner and grabs a box and pulls a rolling cart that I hadn’t seen before to the center of the stage.
One of the guys from earlier rushes onto the stage and places a set of carpeted stairs in front of the cart. He then undoes a few locks on the clear box. The top and each end are removed, leaving both sides remaining upright. He steps aside, placing them at his feet, and waits.
The man in the black button-down takes the woman’s upper arm and helps guide her to center stage. He assists her up the stairs, and when she gets to the top one, she comes to a stop.
“On your knees,” he commands. “Spread them wide. I want everyone to be able to see how wet you are.”
She slowly gets to her knees and positions her ass and heels to hang off the back edge of the box. His hands go to her tied arms, and he helps her get into position with her legs spread wide as he instructed so her chest is flat on the bottom of the box. I realize there are also two holes, and part of her boobs hang out of the bottom.
The main guy, with his hand on her back, looks at the other guy and motions for him to bring the other glass pieces. He helps him put the top on, fastening it to the two standing sides. The height is so short that it smashes her tied arms to the glass, keeping her chest pushed down to the floor of the box.
I shift in my seat, the panic gripping my chest of being confined in such a tight space. The feel of Saint’s fingers digging into my thigh makes me whimper. I can feel his eyes on me, so I avoid him by watching the woman on stage. She wiggles her body, but she has no luck in moving whatsoever. Even the sides of her legs are pressed against the sides of the glass.
The man takes one of the end pieces and places it on. There are two half holes on the bottom for her ankles to hang out and a hole in the center to allow him access to her ass and pussy. The sound of the locks has her breathing picking up. He walks to the front, and the man hands him the other piece of glass.
He places it on the opposite end, where a hole at the bottom allows her head to hang out over the edge. He locks it, securing her naked and inside the box.
The man holding the glass pieces holds out his hand, and the guy takes what he offers. “Open wide,” he orders to the woman, and she obliges greedily.
He shoves a large black rubber ball gag into her mouth and then proceeds to place the harness over her head. When I see it has a blindfold connected that he slips over her eyes, my heart races.
She can’t move, see, or speak. It makes me feel like I’m suffocating. It’s my worst fear, yet my hard nipples press against the spikes on the inside of my bra.
He fastens the two buckles at the back of her head, then reaches into his pocket and removes something. He slides it into the silver ring where it buckled and then pulls it up. Her gagged moan fills the large room as he connects it to the top of the box, forcing her to arch her head back.
Going over to the couch, he picks up a box and opens it. He removes the contents and walks back over to her. Bending down, he plays with her breasts that hang through the two holes on the bottom. He pulls on her nipples, more of her breasts coming through the tight hole before he twists them. He’s not gentle in any way, and it has my pulse racing.
When satisfied, he places nipple clamps on each one and then stands. I watch them dangle back and forth and notice that they each have weights on the end of them, pulling on her breasts.
