Hold me, Thrill Me, Kiss me

The cuffs were her birthday gift, so in a twisted way it was appropriate that the first time they used them was during another person’s birthday party. His father’s.

The first instruction came as she bared the nape of her neck so he could fasten her necklace.

“At 11pm you’ll go to the bathroom, remove your knickers, and give them to me. If I’m busy, you will wait with them in your hands until I take them.”
She nodded, committing this to memory as she turned to face him and straighten his tie.
“And then, when all the guests have gone and we are all alone, we’re going to take off that pretty dress, and cuff you to the bed, and I’m going to eat that wet, desperate cunt of yours.”
She blushed crimson, the first of many pretty blushes that night.
“Yes Sir.” She said in a small voice.
“That’s my girl.” He took her arm and they made their way downstairs.

Of course, he tormented her that evening. Putting his arm around her he would palm that exact spot on her back which made her melt; trace his finger along the creases of her palm and she would try to hold it together in front of his aunts and uncles. Simple, unobtrusive gestures which no one could possibly think were turning her insides to jelly. His mother served kir royale, and he whispered “Who’s my wet little slut?” into his girl’s ear when passing the glasses round.

As they sat down to dinner, she knew her underwear would already be soaked through, and at 11.pm exactly, she excused herself to the lavatory and peeled the lacy garment from her body, folding it into a neat, damp parcel and returning to the festivities where she found him smoking with a clutch of attendees. Dutifully she caught his eye and folded her hands behind her back patiently, until he was free.

When the other revellers trooped back inside where it was warm, he held out his hand and took the bundle from her, handling it like expensive jewellery, and finally bringing it to his face to inhale the result of two hours of his teasing.

“Good girl.” He nodded, pleased with his pet.

She blushed; he could have made her do anything at that moment; were the sodden item in his pocket a little smaller he would have gagged her with it – the way he sometimes did when they fucked – and lead her through the party, mute and desperate, for all the world to see. But he was not so cruel, though he earmarked this thought for a more intimate gathering of like-minded friends.

At midnight the party began to dismantle, and they excused themselves away to bed after helping his mother load the dishwasher, and blow out the candles. Alone in his childhood bedroom, now a flowery guest room with new towels and a duvet as white and fluffy as a snowdrift, he undressed his girl, his gift.

Off came her beautiful red dress.

Off came her warm woollen tights.

Off came her lacy black bra.

Off came her glasses.

And when she was naked, presented to him, she held out her wrists for her cuffs. Her obedience made his chest swell and his balls twitch. They twitched again once he’d secured her to the bed, arms raised above her head with the chain looped around the cheap pine slats.

When he ran his finger from her wrist, down her arm, and into the hollow of her armpit, it made her squeal. Down came his hand over her mouth.

“No. No noise. We are guests in this house, aren’t we?”

She nodded

“So we are going to be quiet and respectful.” he lazily moved the hand to her nipple and flicked between his fingers to emphasise this. She pressed her lips together and looked at him, nostrils flared and eyes smarting.

“Aren’t we?” He added.

“Yes Sir.” She said meekly.

Satisfied, he began to kiss a path from her neck, delicately caressing her collarbone, over her stomach and finally, between her thighs. His face was wicked as he parted the outer lips of her cunt and surveyed her.

“Oh my, look how wet you are. So wet. Filthy girl. I’ve barely even touched you yet. Maybe I won’t touch you at all. I’ll just leave you here. But you look so delicious and inviting…..”

First, his favourite. The flat of his tongue sliding slowly and deliberately from the pulsing heat of her cunt to the tight, twitching knot of her clitoris – and all along the tender strip of skin between, making her feel every molecule of herself, and the power of his control. She almost thought herself melting into the duvet until she felt his fingers of his right hand gripping the flesh of her thigh, pressing her down, holding her in place whilst his left middle and index fingers insinuated deep inside her, curving upwards as he licked the sensitive flesh around her clit.

She writhed into the covers, so aware she mustn’t make any noise, of her arousal making a puddle under her, of not wanting to disappoint her Sir, artfully devouring her. She had to give herself up to him.

His fingers pressed on further, alternating his manipulative tongue with kisses. She felt her climax swirling within her, growing stronger and likely to burst out of her at any moment, but she knew the precise combination of his artist’s fingers and silver tongue was causing something else to build too.

“Sir…..” She breathed, moaning almost so quietly he couldn’t quite hear her, the noise vibrating gently in her chest.

He, of course, was busy and could not reply.

“Ohhhhh.” She sighed, no longer merely writhing, now she was pulling against her restraints, aching for the exact position that would release her, release everything.

“Sir……” she called again, tensing her thighs about his ears and he briefly lifted his face to see her, flushed and sweating, almost lost to everything but him.

“You may, Kitten.”
“Thank you.” She whispered, lifting her hips to wrap her ankles around his shoulders and drive him into her more deeply; his tongue now focussing on the sweetest part of her cunt, that tiny, specific spot where just the right number of strokes at just the right time would make her…..

She felt the gush first. The waterfall that made her legs shake, and moments later the crashing of waves as her orgasm raced ahead. But she was silent, she only breathed harshly and mewed in satiation. Her ears were ringing and her limbs were weak against the bed and when she came back to earth he was still covering her inner thighs and belly with kisses.

Crawling up the bedclothes to meet her, he reached up to unfasten the chain, and as she fell into his arms, he caught her safely, bringing his fingers to her mouth. She sucked them like a comforter, a pacifier, as the feeling returned to her spent body.

“Good girl.” He whispered, covering her with a jewel-coloured throw, as precious as she was.

“Did I make a mess, Sir?” She murmured into his neck.

“You did. And I’m very proud of you.”

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