My eyes roll back behind the silk as I feel his hands roam over my bound body. The scent of our passion sends my senses into a spiral of overwhelming pleasure. The rope feels rough against my raw wrists, I have been struggling without realizing, trying to close the gap between myself and his touch. I need him, I want him.
My gasps and complaints are muffled by a single red ball as he pulls away from me. I cannot see him, but I feel the bed adjust the loss of his weight. "Is he looking at me?" I ponder. My body squirms and twists, trying to find him, Blood pulsing, making my wet pussy throb. Sweat drips between my full breasts, "Where is he?" I try to focus on my hearing, but controlling my breathing seems impossible.
It could have been an hour, or a few minutes, time flows differently when you are bound at a man's disposal. My body arches to a simple touch on my cheek. He slowly traces the side of my face, over the soft material that keeps my vision dark, and the sleek leather holding my silence in place. He lights a trail of fire wherever he goes, over my collar, tugging it slightly. A kiss, barely making contact on my collarbone sends me flying higher and higher in passion as they continue down my breast. His tongue swirls around my hardened nipple, teasingly close, but no contact. I try to squirm so contact is made, but my binds allow me no slack. His hands slide down my arms, and across the restraints holding me. It was as if he was reminding me of my binds, my submission to him. He is my Master. I am his slave.
I wasn't always this obedient to my Master, I used to hate him.