There are slats on the back and solid arms. It’s heavy enough to need wheels to move but they’re locked in place now. It’s strong. Even if I pulled with my full strength, there’s no way I’d be able to break free.
I take a seat and she reaches for the fastener on my jeans, then drops her hands to her side. “Do you want me to?”
My hands caress the arms of the chair, the head of the bed just a foot away. “Where are you going to be?”
She climbs onto the bed, laying down so I can see her face, her feet the closest thing to me. “Like this?”
“Can you change ends?” I stand and move to the bed, laying my hands on top of the crossbar. “This blocks my view, so if you could be on top, facing me?”
“You’d like that?” She rolls over and knee walks up the bed until her hands rest on the board next to mine. Her face inches away. “I could position myself here and he could be behind me.” She turns and looks over her shoulder, picturing the new location. “You won’t see him moving inside me.”
My smile broadens. “Yeah, I don’t want to see that. All I want is to see you. Your reactions.”
“Okay.” She sits back on her heels, eyes fixed to my face, reading me. “I have a balaclava he could wear.”
That jolt of excitement hits me again, stirring my cock until it presses against the thickness of my jeans. “I’d like that.”
This is easier. The moving. The talking. Not letting me eat my way inside my head until I can’t figure out an escape.
“Could you restrain me before he comes in?” I ask, getting into the role, scripting things the same way I’d tried to do with the foreign cam girls. “Me here. You on the bed, waiting. Then him through the door.”
“Like a break-in?”
“Yes.” My chest hums at the ease of understanding. I glance down at my clothing, unsure what state I’ll be left in after the performance is underway.
“This’ll sound weird, but I have condoms. If you wear one, there won’t be as much clean-up, but I don’t—”
“That sounds good. Can I…?” My face turns red again, the damn traitor. “Are you okay for me to strip? I think that’ll work better.”
“Take your shirt off,” she orders me, sliding off the side of the bed to fetch something from the cabinet. “Then sit in the chair.”
I obey her, part amused, part responsive to the new tone of command in her voice. She’d said about being domineering and it hadn’t fit in with how she presents but now I get it. A role she slips into just as easily as she slipped into the transparent teddy.
She rolls wrist protectors into place, then loops the ties around the wood, pulling until the first is loosely holding me. “I can take it tighter.”
“Okay. Remember, if you’re clutching the arm, your muscles will tense against the plastic. The fabric will protect your skin, but you could still bruise or lose sensation if it’s too tight.”
I clench my hand and test the increase in pressure. After a few goes, I understand how to control it. “You’re right. That’s perfect.”
She nods, moving to secure the other hand. Next, she fetches a belt that she loops around my midriff, hooking it through the slats then fastening it behind the chair. She slides it so the buckle lays against my chest, the cold of the metal just another texture to add to those overloading me already.
Her fingers hover above my thighs as she hesitates. “I should have checked. Are you okay with me arranging your jeans and placing the condom or would you prefer to do that part yourself? I can free you, then tie you again.”
The rush of blood makes my head dizzy. “You—” I begin, then have to stop and clear my throat when my voice cracks. “You can do that.”
“Do you have a safe word you prefer?” She runs a finger around the inside of each tie, making sure I have room, then kneels in front of me. Her breasts press against the filmy fabric and her eyes look enormous as she peers up at me.
That slight half-smile she always wears looks knowing. Like she’s perfectly aware of the effect that position has on me.
With a rush of comprehension, I understand she does. That whatever I’m paying for her to do here, this is part of it. As carefully scripted and enacted as anything I’ve ever tried to get done.
“Can I unzip your jeans?”
My eyes almost bug out of my head at the increased pressure as I nod. She leans forward, her slim fingers deftly unbuttoning my fly then slowly dragging down the zipper, so slowly I can hear the individual metal teeth pulling apart.
“Would you like me to pull them all the way off or just leave them open?”
And a minute ago I would have had a very different answer. A minute ago, I was shy, self-conscious, like at any moment I’d cry off and bring this entire scenario to an end. “Take them off.”
