She couldn’t move. Sure, she could clench and unclench her muscles, but any other movement was halted. Blindfolded she couldn’t see what held her in stasis, where she was, nor could she remember quite how she got to this place, what she’d been doing.
What had she been doing? Gym? Coming home from work? Walking downtown? It was perplexing how foggy her brain was.
In the background was the soft whirr of a fan, the stirring of air on her skin. Her nipples pearled in response. The sound of a door opening halted the muddled whirl of thoughts.
Footsteps moved closer, a warm hand pressed against her belly, then slid upward to cup her breast. A finger flicked her nipple. A garbled moan came from her open mouth response. She couldn’t close her mouth, she realized.
“Good girl. I think you’re ready now.”
‘Ready?” she thought, confused. ‘Ready for what?’
A cold splash against her vulva made her belly tighten, made a quick grunt of shock emit from her throat. A faint hum presaged something slick pressing between her legs, sliding over her clit, through her channel, and into her cunt. She tried to shake her head no, but that too was immobile. Her pussy accepted the tool readily enough. He pushed and pulled, fucking her slowly. Every few strokes, the vibe would be pulled free of her sucking hole and roll over her lips, her clit. The sensations were overwhelming.
“Such a greedy cunt.”
There was no way to protest his bland comment. It stung, the matter-of-fact tone as he continued his assault on her body.
“You may wonder why you can’t move. I’ve found that merely tying a woman to the bed still allows too much freedom of movement. I want my girls to be as close to immobile, and yet unharmed as possible. I had to get a bit creative, as you’ll find out. Later.”
The bed shifted as he rose, moving away. He’d pressed the vibe inside of her, but the lube allowed it to shift, and slip free. It pressed high, right against her sensitive bulb. No amount of tightening would move the thing, and pleasure vied with the sensitive touch of pain.
Again the bed moved as he sat.
“Tsk. Naughty pussy.” The vibe was moved away, and several hard slaps fell between her legs. Again she attempted to move her head in protest, as guttural gurgles came from her splayed lips. Quickly he reinserted the dildo, the curved tip of it scraping along that sensitive spongy top of her vagina. Her hips lifted, seeing more of that sensation.
“What a greedy pussy you are. Just how I like my pretties.” His voice was filled with amusement. A loud hum filled the room, echoing around and through her. He pressed it between her legs, moving it up, down, and around that slick slit. She whimpered, trying to move away. Movement, however, was futile. But what he was doing to her–it was too much. Too intense. She tried to struggle, but could only lay there, open and vulnerable, and take what he was doing to her.
An orgasm shuddered through her. Her pussy clamped hard on the vibe inside, adding its own tremors to the sensory overload. She felt spacy, breathing hard as the quivers began to subside. The vibe was not quite touching her now, but she could hear it, feel the air move just over her pussy lips.
“You can’t move away. You can’t bend and writhe. I love to watch the struggle as my girls cope with the overload of sensation. The way your face contorts, your nipples contract, your pussy convulses. I’ll take your picture as you cum, and cum again.”
He paused, rubbing the vibe against her puffy lips, a wisp of a touch.
“There is something so primal, beautiful, evocative in the violence of your release. I will watch you cum many times today. I’ll use your mouth when I can’t stand the pressure of my cock any further, then return to your cunt. I’ll cull the pictures later, taking the best of the best to remember you by. You, pretty pussy, will remember none of this. You’ll wake in your own bed, feeling sore, used, exhausted. But you won’t remember why.”
He laughed, a soft sound almost hidden by the louder hum of the big vibrator.
She wanted to speak, to plead, to know what drug he had given her to immobilize her so completely. She felt the coil of rope on wrist and ankles. The tight binding of a collar around her throat. He pressed the head of the humming ball against her clit and she felt nothing but the shocking bolt of lust wrapped in pain.
She woke in her bed.
Her head ached, her throat was dry. Her pussy throbbed. What? She didn’t remember coming home, only recalled leaving work, dressed for Claire’s party. Remembered eating those lobster canapes, drinking champagne to celebrate her promotion…then nothing. She must’ve gotten totally wasted.
She sat up, groggy, hoping that whomever she’d fucked had left, and she wouldn’t have to go through that uncomfortable “morning after” dance.
The urge to pee was the only thing that made her get up. She might have lazed in bed for another hour, but her throbbing clit and aching bladder had other plans.
Stepping into her bathroom, she sat, eyes closed as she peed. Rising, she flushed, and decided to brush her teeth. Morning after mouth sucked. Looking at the mirror she recoiled.
A photograph taped there.
A woman, spread eagle on a bed.
PVC pipes covering her legs, her arms.
Mouth held open with a wire thing.
Her hand moved to her pussy, covering the sudden throb.
The erotic scene made her dizzy. And the face was unmistakable.