“Hands behind your back now,” he commanded.
She did as he told her. The pain in her knees was uncomfortable but bearable. He left her in this position for minutes, maybe as long as fifteen minutes. The pain was slowly increasing as she was forced to maintain the position.
“Do you want to get up off the floor, girl?” he asked, when the discomfort had built to a truly uncomfortable level.
She nodded.
“Will you be respectful to your master from now on?”
She nodded again.
“Good girl. Stand up, then.”
She got slowly to her feet. His hand was immediately upon her elbow, and he pulled her forward. “Now the bed. Lie down on your back, slut.”
In an instant, he’d thrown her on her back on the soft bed. After the hard floor and the pain in her knees, the bed felt positively luxurious and she was grateful to him for putting her on it.
“Extend your arms and legs all the way,” he told her.
When she did, he began tying up her wrists with what she assumed were the scarves she’d seen dangling from the four bedposts. Next, he tied her feet. She was completely tied up and immobile now.
She couldn’t see or speak.
“I can see your heart beating through your dress,” he said, sitting next to her. She felt his weight sinking into the mattress.
It was so dark. So dark and she couldn’t speak or move.
“Trust me,” he whispered into her ear. “You will come to see what I see in this world. And you will never want to go back.”
She nodded reluctantly. After some time had passed, he changed position. She could sense his movements but didn’t know what he was doing. His hands were on her calves now, lightly touching them.
Goose bumps raised on her skin as he caressed her legs softly. “You are a princess. You are beautiful. But you need to learn manners,” he cooed.
His hands moved up to her thighs. Now she was feeling the pleasure. She moaned through her gag. The darkness had become a friend, somehow. She rather enjoyed not knowing where his hands would move next. Not knowing what he might do to her, where he might touch her.
For a very long time, his warm hands moved along her thighs, tracing up and down, and each time he strayed towards her wetness, she moaned louder and louder. She was going to cum soon. She couldn’t help it. She’d wanted him to touch her like this, and here it was happening.
A man that could have any woman he wanted had chosen her.
Her body was shaking as she tried to resist the urge to come.
The more she tried to resist, the harder it became. Her nipples were so hard she could have cut glass with them. They poked roughly up through her dress. He must have noticed this, because suddenly his hands were on them, roughly pulling her nipples and squeezing them through the sheer fabric of the dress.
She moaned louder and louder, her body bucking and writhing in its straps.
“You bad, dirty little slut,” he whispered. “I think we might have found a thoroughbred,” he said, as if to himself, marveling at her eagerness.
He played more with her nipples, sometimes being gentle, other times squeezing until it became painful. But always there was pleasure. Always.
He was a master, and he played her body the way a great violinist would stroke his bow against the strings of an instrument. Sometimes fiercely, with something akin to violence, other times the gentleness of his caress was a thing of beauty.
Nicole was out of her mind, out of her body, out of her self. She’d become something totally different, as if she’d been transported. In the darkness she found she didn’t care how she looked, or what he might be thinking of her moaning and writhing. She completely let herself go, let the fantasy become reality.
The orgasm that she’d been fending off and fending off was building to a crescendo that was unimaginable, like a tsunami building and building. Soon it would swallow everything in its path.
The wave broke when his hand slid from her nipples down her ribcage, her belly and stopped at the very top of her slick cunt. She knew she’d long ago soaked through her dress, it was sticking to her skin and he could likely see everything in stark outline.
His fingers came to rest and one fingertip dug slowly into her swollen flesh, nudging her clitoris.
She came then, with such ferocity that it might have looked like convulsions. She bucked her hips and his finger was fucking her now, fucking her through her dress.
She screamed but the gag blocked her screams. All that came out was muffled moans. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in air and expelled it, still bucking. The orgasm continued and continued.
By the time it was over, she was simply drenched.
Drenched and exhausted.
She lay there motionless, spent. His hands were soon busy untying the ball gag. It was removed and she flexed her lips, her mouth was so dry. Next, he went and untied all four limbs. When her hands were released, she rubbed her wrists, feeling the indentations in her skin.